


If You Wanna Live the Good Life (You Better Stay Away From the Limelight)

by LeighKelly, Nic1031



Series: Farmverse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Farmverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4798739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeighKelly/pseuds/LeighKelly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nic1031/pseuds/Nic1031
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Santana inherits a rundown farm from her estranged late grandmother, she needs to place to run from a scandal in New York City. When she arrives, it's most definitely not what she expected. Though she's not sure whether she'll stay or go, she hires landscape architect Brittany Pierce to make the land habitable, and finds love in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. March

Two hundred fifty six miles, that’s how far Santana Lopez had driven to escape the past six months of her life. As she reaches the sign announcing her arrival in Copper Hollow, New York, population six-hundred-twenty-three, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She’s exhausted, she’s so exhausted. Twelve days ago, she’d finally appeared for the last time at that imposing New York City courthouse. Twelve days ago, the judge had finally ruled in her favor on her claims accusing her former boss of sexual harassment and discriminatory firing practices. But she wonders, she wonders if the whole thing was worth it, if she should have just walked away with her dignity remotely intact, preserving her reputation and future career prospects. She lost so much. Her job, her faith in humanity, too many of her so-called friends. And her ex - whatever, not girlfriend per se, had dropped her before she had a chance to blink. Too much stress she said, given the conflict surrounding Santana’s existence, she just couldn’t handle it. So Santana left the city alone, no plan for what she’d do next, beyond pretending the past year of her life didn’t happen.

Her friends, the few she has left, they think she’s crazy, that she’s completely lost her mind, when she walked out of that courtroom and told them she was going upstate, finally opening the envelope her grandmother’s lawyer had sent her in the midst of everything else, detailing the inheritance she was left, primarily, a property up in Nowheresville. What could she possibly do outside the city, they’d asked her. But she doesn’t care. She can’t stay there. Not when she feels like she’s going to combust. Not when she feels like she can’t even walk outside of her apartment without people staring- whether it’s in her head or not. She’s not staying. She needs to get away for a while and this place, well… It’ll do.

As she drives down Main Street, she takes in how quaint it all is. Something she’d normally snicker at, but now, she breathes in the quiet, the smell of early spring in the country. Without the perpetual honking and yelling, she already feels like her nerves don’t jump so much. It’s funny, really, the way she hardly recognizes this town. She’d come here for a week, every summer, until she was sixteen, but now, she can’t tell you anything about it, beyond the name, and that it had almost more churches than people.

Santana continues driving, until Main Street turns into a dirt road, and the houses are miles apart. She takes another deep breath, and she sees the number on the gate that encloses the property, number two-fifteen, Maple Lane. Fumbling through her center console, Santana digs out the array of keys the lawyer sent her, searching for the right one. She steps out of the car, and as she jams the key in the chain lock and pushes the old farm gate open, she scowls at the crabgrass, grown nearly up to her waist. She struggles to get the gate open wide enough to fit her car through, batting at the weeds that tickle her legs. As she pulls at the hem of her dress to turn back, and she feels the heel of her right foot sink into the mud, she knows for certain, she’s definitely not dressed for this. She gets her shoe unstuck finally and flops back into the driver’s seat. Putting the car in gear and driving through the gate, she’s suddenly hit with this sense of regret that she doesn’t have four wheel drive. Something she’d never in her life imagined she’d need. But if the outside of the property was bad, the inside is an absolute disaster. It looks nothing like the place she remembers, like everything overgrew, and then a river ran straight through the property, washing it out. She grits her teeth and looks to the sky, silently cursing her grandmother for what feels like one final spite.

“What the fuck!” Santana has been uttering the expression over and over again for months, both out loud, and in her head, and now here, in the place where there’s no one around to hear her, she screams it, pounding her fists against the steering wheel.

Luckily, for Santana’s sake, the old farmhouse is in far less disarray than the land that surrounds it, and spends her first few days settling in, unpacking her clothes in the upstairs bedroom that she used to stay in. She makes great efforts to avoid the room that had been her abuela’s, trying, as best as she can, not to even walk past the door. She pointedly avoids the knowledge that eventually she will have to go through her stuff. But for now, she simply sits in the kitchen with her laptop, trying to make herself write something, anything, though no words come. She’s left the house exactly once, for groceries, and she swears, the plants outside are growing. She swears, they’re going to overgrow the house, trapping her inside, and somehow, she’s going to end up living a modern day lesbian version of Grey Gardens- and she could definitely do without the cats, since that’s not the kind of pussy she’s into- if she doesn’t make some kind of move to fix things now.

–

And so, five days after leaving the city, Santana finds herself once again at the kitchen table, her laptop opened in front of her. Beside the computer are the papers that detail what was left to her by her grandmother, that small cash inheritance that came along with the house, looking like it will go entirely into restoring the property surrounding it. The money from her settlement, Santana is truly trying not to put into this, because without a plan for her future, she needs to live on that for as long as possible. On screen, the words Pierce Landscape Architecture and Cleanup stare back at her, and she wonders how she’ll even begin to describe the disaster that looms outside the door. Can she just start with,it’s a fucking mess? Or is that too forward. She thinks it’s probably too forward, but still, it’s true. And what even is a landscape architect anyway? Does she really need that? It’s not like she’s showing off this property to anyone. She doesn’t even know if she’s staying here. This isn’t HGTV, this is tiny town New York. But this seems to be the only landscaper in a fifty mile radius, so she figures, she better just pick up the phone and call, unless she plans on cleaning this mess herself. She shudders at that thought.

“Pierce Landscape Architecture and Cleanup.” A voice, way too chipper, answers, before Santana even realizes she’d dialed the phone. “This is Brittany.”

“Uh.” There’s a silence on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Um.” Santana feels like she’s never used the phone before. This is pretty much the only human contact she’s had, besides the cashier at the grocery store, and she’d almost forgotten what her own voice sounds like. “Do you do crappy old farms?”

She hears a giggle, “I don’t think it’s possible to do a farm. I saw a show on Discovery Health once about a guy who did tractors though. But I, um, don’t do those either. Is this a prank call?”

Santana is giggling despite herself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not…used to this.”

“Used to using a phone? Are you Amish?”

“No I can use a phone. I mean, finding a landscaper.” Santana mentally facepalms. “This is a big job and I have no idea what it involves. Look, is there, like, one of the actual landscapers there?”

“Well, I prefer the term landscape architect.” There’s a silence from Santana for a moment, while she pieces it together.

“Wait, you?”

“Brittany Pierce, landscape architect at your service.” She announces. Santana sputters, feeling kind of foolish that she didn’t believe that the person who answered the phone could possibly be the landscaper- no, landscape architect- but she just sounds so happy, so, clean, maybe? She can’t imagine this disembodied voice all covered in dirt and bugs and whatever else is out there in that yard.

“I…sorry. I just didn’t think you’d answer your own phone.”

“People don’t believe I’m the owner of this place on a regular basis, it’s fine.” Brittany seems to brush it off. “Listen, I’m a visual learner, I have to see the property to really get an idea of what you need. Where are you located and when are you free?”

“Uhh, well, I’m free anytime. I don’t ever leave. Oh Jesus, I shouldn’t have said that…”

“Makes my job easier.” Brittany laughs a little. “I’m headed out to the west side of town now for a few hours. I could swing by after that, around three. Where’s your place?”

“On Maple. Two-fifteen, Maple.”

“That’s…the Lopez farm, isn’t it?” Brittany asks, and Santana hears some hesitation in her voice.

“Uh yeah… this is a smaller town than I thought.”

“I don’t have too many people to remember. But, I’m glad to see someone bought the place. I was pretty friendly with the old owner so, I hated that it was abandoned.”

“Yeah…” Santana brushes off the comment. “So I guess I’ll see you this afternoon. Thanks for taking the time to come by Miss Pierce.”

“It’s no problem, and please, it’s Brittany. What was your name again?”

“Santana, Santana Lopez.”

Santana works herself up into sort of a frenzy, trying to clean up the house before Brittany arrives. Looking at the stack of dishes in the sink, the mail, all addressed still to Alma Lopez that has been piling by the door, and the books she’d taken to reading strewn all about the porch, coupled with the fact that her abuela was sort of a hoarder, she feels like all she really needs are a few cats, and her first human contact will actually think she’s nuts. What is it about old people that causes them to acquire so much crap anyway? Who actually needs nine hat boxes? People don’t even wear hats anymore! She really needs to get around to throwing this all out, or donating it, or something to get rid of that lingering scent that reminds her far too much of her dead grandmother.

As she’s washing the dishes, Santana contemplates changing her clothes, and then realizes how truly pathetic she’s become, dressing up for the landscaper. And besides, one look at the place, and the girl is probably expecting Miss Havisham to open the door anyway, so at least she’s several steps up as she is. When she finally has the house in somewhat of a state of order, she realizes she never actually got the answer to her question, about what exactly a landscape architect is, so she sits down and types the phrase into Wikipedia, and then her name into Google, hoping Brittany Pierce isn’t some kind of person straight out ofMillion Dollar Listing. Her eyebrows lift when the results pour in, because Brittany is way more than a landscaper. She wasn’t even aware that people up here had this kind of work done on their property, and the library she’d done in town, it’s absolutely gorgeous. As is, apparently, Brittany herself. She gulps and decidesnope, she is absolutely not going down that road. Not right now, and definitely not with someone she’s hoping to hire to salvage this property.

When the doorbell rings, Santana jumps a little at the noise, and while she walks to get it, she notices that she still hadn’t opened the shades to let some light in. At the thought, she can’t help but mumble to herself ‘what reasonable recluse wants children peeping through her shutters?’ And then, when she laughs at her own reference, she shakes her head, really beginning to question her own sanity. She’s now comparing herself to Boo Radley. If there has ever been a point where she’s been convinced she’s lost her mind, it’s now, right this moment, when there’s a really gorgeous and probably entirely too expensive landscape architect just on the other side of the door. Shit, does she have pants on? She has to look down and check. Maybe Kurt was right about at least one thing, in terms of her temporary relocation. If she’s not sure if she has pants on, she might be turning uncivilized. Santana can’t help but peek through the old, dusty peephole, catching her first glimpse of Brittany Pierce, in the flesh, hair pulled up, ripped jeans and a white tank top, even in the April chill, and a flannel shirt tied around her waist.

“What the fuck?” She whispers, it’s the first time in months that those words have come out of her mouth in a good way. The pictures didn’t do her justice, this woman is the hottest person she’s ever seen. She hopes her mouth remembers how to work this time, and she has to remember to take a deep breath before she opens the door.

“Hi! I’m Brittany, you must be Santana?” Brittany beams, a huge grin spreading across her face, before Santana can even say a word.

“I’m. Yeah, I’m Santana. It’s nice to meet you, Brittany.” She extends her hands and shakes it. Squeezing the soft warmth. “Can I get you something? I pretty much have water and beer…”

Brittany giggles at that, it’s the cutest fucking sound Santana has ever heard. And Santana has to just look at her feet, because she’s really struggling here. She’s an adult, she should be able to make eye contact with someone she’s going to do business with. But her mind is so jumbled. She blames the implosion back home, and now her self-imposed exile, really. She’s sinking further into herself until Brittany speaks up.

“Water is good, unless you want beer. But I’ll only have a beer if you have one too.”

“I…I think I’m good right now with water.” Santana swallows hard. She knows it’s unwise for her to have a beer, not with this goddess standing in front of her. “But seriously, you’re welcome to my beer.”

“No, no, water is fine for me. We’ll save the hard stuff for some other time.”

Brittany winks, and Santana turns to head to the kitchen before she word vomits all over everything. She shuts herself up tight, because she’s not doing this, she’s not quite sure why she’s acting like a teenager with a crush over someone she’s talked to for three minutes. She just needs this yard fixed. She doesn’t need any kind of entanglements. Her life has been far too full of them, and the whole point of coming here is to avoid anything that will cause her more stress. Filling two glasses of water, she heads back outside to the porch and finds Brittany sitting in one of the crappy old wicker chairs. She’s embarrassed, because this place really is a dump, but, she’s only been here five days, and there hasn’t been much she could do.

“So, the property…is in pretty rough shape.” Brittany understates, and Santana’s strangely thankful that she didn’t come right out and call a spade a spade. “Have you talked to anyone about insurance claims?”

“Insurance claims? I don’t even know if my grandmother had insurance.”

“Alma was your grandmother?” Brittany asks, and Santana realizes that it had just sort of slipped out, without much thought.

“Until I was sixteen. She hates the homos, so…” Santana’s so bitter about everything she’s been through, about all the years she’d kept her personal life so strictly personal, that she spits it with venom. At Santana’s words, Brittany’s eyes widen, and immediately, she drops the subject.

“Okay, well, I think you should try to look into it. We had some flooding back in November, and a lot of the properties here were covered for it. It’ll save you a bunch of money, if you’re covered.”

“Yeah? Okay, well, I’ll see if I can find anything out about her insurance. Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course, I’m not here to beat you out of money. Do you mind if I walk the property a little? Then I can give you a real estimate of the cleanup and rebuild, and we’ll go from there, if you wanted to do anything else.”

“Yeah, no, of course, whatever you need to do. Did you need anything else from me?”

“I think I’m good.” Brittany tells Santana, and she’s so distracted, it doesn’t even phase her how obvious it is that Brittany actually knows the property.

“Okay, well if you need me, I’ll be wading through all the crap in this house”


	2. April & May

It’s been nearly a month since Brittany has taken on the job at the Lopez farm, and beyond their first conversation, and a second, where Santana told her that she’d submitted an insurance claim with her estimate, and wanted to get started, they’ve barely exchanged words. Santana isn’t rude or anything, she’s just, withdrawn, or something. Five days a week, she’s here, and it’s very rare she sees her leave the house. Sometimes, she catches her on the porch, laptop that inevitably gets slammed shut on her lap, or pretending not to watch her push a lawnmower around, but mostly, she’s inside. Digging through who knows what.

It’s strange, really, that she’d never known about this elusive granddaughter of Alma Lopez, her grandmother’s good friend from book club, who had taken a liking to Brittany. But then again, Brittany saw her at least once a week, and she never, not in the slightest, could have imagined that she was homophobic enough to abandon her own grandchild. She feels almost blindsided by the information. She felt like she knew Alma, but this is just, something she struggles to believe. What if she had known about Brittany? Would she have done the same to her? She’s hard pressed to believe that she wouldn’t, if the woman who talked so frequently about the importance of family could turn on her own flesh and blood, and that thought stings, badly.

She looks across the yard at Santana just in time to see her slam her laptop shut again. And though she doesn’t know this girl at all, or what her story is, there’s this deep, deep sadness, and a whole lot of anger that seems to surround her. Brittany knows she shouldn’t get involved. She’s here to work, to get this place looking like it isn’t where plants go to die, but still, she feels this strange sort of pull, this overwhelming desire to do something. It’s an urge she hasn’t felt before and try as she might, she can’t help but let it pull her right to the front porch.

“Is there something you need?” Santana looks up from where she glares at her closed laptop.

“Um, I was wondering, if you’re not too busy, if you wanted to come walk the property with me. I’ve got a few ideas for things I want to show you.”

“I don’t really know anything about plants, or grass, or whatever.” Santana starts, but then Brittany watches as her face softens. “But, I guess it’s my property. I should look, right?”

“It’s totally up to you, but it’s not so bad, you know. The grass and plants and whatever.”

“Guess I’m just used to New York City.”

“Oh, is that where you’re from?” Brittany is surprised to learn something about Santana, besides what she’d blurted out the day they met. Brittany’s trying to get her to open up a little so she attempts to keep the conversation going. “From what I hear, there’s a pretty big park of grass there…Or something.” Santana cracks a tiny smile and rolls her eyes at Brittany’s joke.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t really spend much time there. Although I did have a view of it from my office window so…I know it exists.” Santana half jokes, and Brittany rolls her eyes. One of the greatest parks in the country, the world, really, and it definitely more than just exists.

“Look, you don’t have to know about anything. Just come and see what I’m working on, you’re paying me to make your property nice aren’t you?”

“I guess that’s true. Okay, okay let’s go”

Santana follows Brittany out onto the property, paying attention, she guesses, but she really has no idea about the four different types of grasses Brittany is telling her about. She does however, notice how happy Brittany looks talking about this stuff, and she can’t deny that even after only a month, the grounds already looking significantly better.

“Where did your crew go, anyway? I haven’t heard them blaring their shitty music in a while.”

“Oh, you mean the Britney Spears? I used to think she was my long lost sister, she’s Britney Spears, I’m Brittany S. Pierce. I’m not sure why it never occurred to me that it’d be weird for sisters to have the same name…”

“Um…okay.” Santana sort of eyes Brittany strangely. “So, it was your…um…music then? I haven’t heard it in over a week.”

“Headphones.” Brittany pats her back pocket. “I play it out loud when my guys are working. They make fun of it, but it makes them move a lot faster. But the clean up’s done, and I do the other stuff myself.”

“So what are you working on now?”

“I was thinking of maybe planting some fruit trees out here, you know? Give it some character, and it’d be something you could use. What do you think?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I’m not sure I’ll be here when they grow, but, whatever you think. You’re the artist.”

“Well, it could also increase property value too, if you were to sell it later.”

It sort of goes on like that, Brittany telling her about the work, and Santana vaguely answering. But really, Brittany is just glad she’s outside in the fresh air, so she feels like maybe, maybe she’s accomplished at least a little something, and even if Santana isn’t responding a whole lot, they’re at least talking. Walking further and further back on the land, that Brittany and her cleanup crew have mostly cleared of debris, Brittany notices a perplexed look on Santana’s face.

“This is still my property out here?”

“Yeah, all the way back to the fence line. You see that barn out there? That’s yours too”

“Fuck I have a barn? I used to come here every summer, and I wasn’t allowed to play outside. I didn’t even know this existed.” Brittany chuckles a little at Santana’s response.

“Well Miss Lopez, you are now the proud owner of this barn…” They look up at it, and, well, it’s definitely seen better days. The paint is gone, the wood is rotting around the doors, and the roof is in poor shape.

“Is there anything here that’s not a total piece of crap?” Santana kicks the dirt a little, and then she looks at Brittany, pushing aside the thing she most definitely shouldn’t be thinking, and answering her own question. “Can I just call someone to rip it down? I don’t think fixing this is even close to in my budget.“

"I can work it into your budget, I think, if you wanted. But it’s up to you”

“You fix barns too? What are you, from a Nicholas Sparks novel?” Santana blurts, and Brittany barks out a laugh at that.

“Every great love starts with a great story.” She quotes The Notebook, and then she blushes, realizing how that could be construed. “Sorry. I really like Ryan Gosling.”

“I’m more partial to Rachel McAdams myself.“

"Red heads. Noted.” Brittany turns her attention back to the barn, and Santana almost comments on how not just redheads, and how Rachel McAdams is blond most of the time, but thinks better of it. “Anyway. I’d have to get someone to look at it, make sure it’s structurally sound, but yeah, I could probably do it myself.”

“Fine, let me know what the…inspector says, and then I guess we’ll talk again.”

“Hey, Santana?” Brittany starts, and Santana nods in response. “You know, if you felt like helping, I’d show you how.”


	3. June

Though Santana is reluctant to help Brittany with whatever she’s going to do with the barn, she feels this sort of tug toward it. Maybe it’s just an overwhelming desire to get out of the house, with the collection of old crap that seemed to multiply, or maybe it’s a desire to actually get her hands dirty, but even before the work is ever set to begin, she finds herself outside more and more. Ignoring her laptop, more and more. She doesn’t say much, not really, but, she brings Brittany bottles of water, and listens to more of her ideas about the landscaping, nodding, and following her around, in a completely non-creepy way. It starts off small, she stands in the barn and supervises, and Brittany will ask her for a tool here and there, but as May rolls into June, and her brain still finds itself incapable of writing words, more days than not, she’s out there, and more than once, she finds herself with sandpaper in hand.

Who even is she anymore? She’s wearing sneakers for god’s sake. Expensive ones, but still, sneakers nonetheless. It’s like her inner Carrie Bradshaw has completely short circuited, and she’d be lying if she says that some mornings, she isn’t entirely convinced that Laura Ingalls won’t be staring straight back at her in the mirror. But she and Brittany, who apparently channels Luke Danes regularly, are talking more. She finds out they have very similar taste in music-minus the Britney Spears- and they both like trashy reality shows on occasion. It’s just surface stuff, but still, somehow, outside in the crappy barn that she’s still vaguely convinced might collapse on her, she feels better than she has in the past year. It’s like she can just breathe easier; all the crap, both metaphorical and physical, doesn’t seem quite so overwhelming. She’s smiling more, and really, until her phone rings one morning in mid-June, she’s sort of managed to separate herself from the life she’s running from.

“Hey, I’ll be right back okay?” She’s standing in the barn about to learn how to use a ratchet when her phone rings, and she digs it out of her pocket to look at the caller ID.

“Yeah, do your thing, you know where to find me.” Brittany waves her off.

It’s Kurt who’s calling her. Her best friend, really, if someone had asked her to pick one from back in the city. But she’s been pointedly avoiding his calls. He’d been supportive, really, during the entire work debacle that sent her running from the city as fast as she could buy a car, but since she’d told him she wasn’t sure if she was ever coming back, he’d become more and more insistent that her choice to live her life in country solitude was foolish, and she just can’t really handle talking to him like she used to. As she walks back to the house, figuring she’ll sit up on the porch while she engages in what’s sure to be a long conversation, she picks up the phone.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Porcelain?”

“When are you coming home?” He asks immediately, and she sighs heavily.

“Kurt we’ve talked about this. Several times. I’m not coming back. At least not anytime soon.”

"Why? Santana, you and I were taking this city by storm. So you had a little setback. It’s yesterday’s news. No one even remembers it.”

“I do, Kurt. I remember it. My fucking picture was in the New York Times because I sued the biggest magazine in the city. It wasn’t just a little setback.”

"So what, you’re going to run forever? Give up your career? You know they offered you your job back, after they fired him…”

“Listen to me.” She grinds her teeth in her mouth. “They didn’t give a damn about me before they got a call from my fucking lawyer. His bosses knew damn well I wasn’t sleeping with anyone, but it was a fucking boys club around there, and much easier to get rid of the girl with the big mouth. They offered me my job back to save face. I’m not going back there to that. And I’m not running. I’m just taking a break. I’m taking some time for me. And even though he’s gone, who’s to say that some other jackass won’t come right in and take his place?”

"You’re pretty untouchable now. Anyone who messes with you would be an idiot. You showed them you’re not afraid to take down the patriarchy.”

“At a shitty personal cost. I’m done. I thought you of all people would understand this.”

“I do understand. I’m not saying it wasn’t awful. I’m just saying, come back, be with people like you. We came to New York together after high school, because Columbus sucked, and I have to admit that I miss you. It’s just not the same here without you. What could you possibly be doing up there that makes you happy? Do you even have sushi?”

“Did you know that someone got intestinal worms from eating sushi, Kurt?”

“What?”

"Yeah, a lady got worms from eating sushi. So, I’m actually good without it.”

“How do you even know this, Santana? Is this something that your Aunt Marita shared on Facebook again? She also posted a video on how to lose ten pounds in five days by consuming bat guano. And you actually considered it.”

"I had an important cocktail party on Friday, and you were the one that wanted McDonalds the weekend before in the middle of the night. It seemed like a good idea. Anyway. No, I saw the sushi thing on YouTube last week. And that’s not even the point!”

“So you spend all your time online watching YouTube videos? But you haven’t done any actual work in months! You can’t live on one point five million dollars forever.”

"Well I can live on it a hell of a lot longer if I’m not spending five hundred dollars on fucking sushi every week. My mother doesn’t even give me shit about this Kurt, do you see why I called you Lady Hummel for ten years when you’re constantly hen pecking at me? Why do I have to keep justifying my choices to you?”

“I’m worried about you. I’m not asking you to justify anything, I’m just asking you to consider coming home.”

“I’ve considered it. I’m not coming back to the city. And I have to go. Goodbye, Kurt.”

“Wai…”

Santana is fuming when she hangs up, and throws the phone across the porch in a fit of anger. She tries to take a deep breath, but it becomes a sob, caught in her throat. She hates that she’s an angry crier, but everything just hiccups out of her, and she sinks down onto that stupid wicker furniture, hugging her chest to try and keep from shaking. For so long, she’s gone without crying about this, the complete collapse of her life as she’d known it, but now, one phone call had her blubbering like a baby, wiping her face repeatedly on her bare arms and trying to pull it back together.

Brittany comes walking around the house sipping from her water bottle, as she heads toward her truck to look for a missing pair of pliers, when she sees Santana crumpled on the porch. For several moments, Brittany is frozen there, completely unsure of what to do. Her relationship with Santana, it’s superficial, at best. They talk about television sometimes, or music, but really, they don’t know each other at all. But still, she sees this woman completely devastated, and she doesn’t know, did someone die? Is she hurt? Should she leave her alone, or should she go see if she’s alright?

She feels like she should go to her though, like she needs to make sure she’s okay. She catches sight of Santana’s cell phone teetering on the edge of the porch and slowly walks over towards the porch. She leans down and picks up the phone and kind of waits for some sort of signal from Santana that it’s okay to be in her space right now. Santana sniffles and swipes at her face again, a long time passing, before she even notices Brittany’s presence, and though she’d normally be completely ashamed of herself for the blatant show of emotion, right now, she can’t even bring herself to be.

"Have you ever hated pretty much everyone you know?” She doesn’t laugh, she says it dead serious, so angry, so hurt, that it breaks Brittany’s heart. Brittany’s not actually sure she needs to respond. She thinks that Santana might just need to talk. “Is it really that hard to believe that I don’t want to go back to New York? That someone finds it necessary to call me and harass me about it all the time, when he knows damn well why I left? He’s such a fucking asshole. But you know what? At least he actually calls me. That’s a step up from every single otherfriend of mine. I’m exhausted. I’m so tired of worrying over this. I hate that it happened, that all of my dreams got wrecked, and I don’t need him pretending like it wasn’t fucking awful every single time that he calls. Just because he prances around pissing fucking sparkles doesn’t mean that’s how the whole world works. And I know damn well, if the roles were reversed, he’d be throwing a fit much bigger than I did.”

While Santana vents, Brittany isn’t entirely sure what she’s talking about, but she tries to piece her words, and the story behind them, together as best as she can. It seems like she really needs someone that she can talk to, and though Brittany doesn’t know if she’s asking her to be that person, she’s entirely willing, if that’s what Santana wants. She walks a little closer, Santana’s cell phone still in one hand, and her half empty water bottle in the other. Santana looks up at her for a second, before wiping her face one more time and gently taking the bottle that Brittany offers up.

"Thank you. Sorry I just, unleashed all of that on you. Maybe I am becoming uncivilized, living up here, and seeing only you and Edna, the cashier at Wegmans.”

“I don’t think you’ve reached uncivilized levels just yet.” Brittany smiles a little. “I mean, you still have running water, that has to count for something right?”

“I hope I do. You’re the one who’s been all over the property with heavy machinery.”

“Ouch! I’ll have you know I’m licensed to operate all of that equipment. And I’ve only hit a water line like…once.”

“Please don’t make it twice. If I stop showering, Kurt will come up here and drag me back.” Santana winces a little, realizing maybe it was too soon for her to joke about it, but Brittany doesn’t make a comment about it, or ask who Kurt is.

“I promise that I won’t hit a utility line.” Brittany thinks that maybe they need a little break away from the farm, “Hey, I was thinking of heading to the diner for lunch, are you hungry?”

“Oh, I-” Santana thinks in her head a million excuses why she can’t. It’s what she’d been doing, before she’d left the city, to avoid seeing people, people who knew what had happened. People who would judge her. But here, she realizes she doesn’t need those reasons any more. “There’s a diner around here? And I’ve been cooking all this time?”

“Yeah.” Brittany laughs a little. “It’s pretty good too. Best Banana Chocolate Shakes you’ve ever tasted. It’s only a few miles up the road, I’m surprised you haven’t seen it yet.”

“Well, I follow my route to Wegmans pretty closely. I’m sort of terrified of getting lost in the woods up here, to be honest.”

"You do know I’ve lived around here my whole life. I could show you around sometime, if you’d like. Places that don’t involve Wegmans.”

“I don’t know, Edna might get jealous. I think she likes my company.”

“Edna, huh? Is she one of your redheads?” Brittany winks, impressed with her ability to make Santana release even the smallest of laughs, and intentionally avoiding commenting on the fact that she too likes Santana’s company.

Handing Santana back her cellphone, and letting her grab her bag from inside, Brittany then leads her to the truck, and is quick to open the door for Santana. Grabbing hold of the passenger seat, Santana steps up onto the running board and scrambles into the car, trying not to make a fool of herself, though she hasn’t been in a truck like this since she was dating her high school boyfriend, Sophomore year, when she was still pretending, back in Columbus.

“You got it?” Brittany asks with genuine concern, not because she thinks Santana isn’t capable, more so because she’s seen Santana’s little sports car and this is probably a bit of an adjustment.

“Yeah, all good.” Santana nods, reaching for the seat belt. “Just, not used to this.”

Brittany nods and gently closes the door behind her before jogging around the front of the truck and jumping in easily. Santana is quiet again, as they drive into town, Brittany pointing out things that might be of interest to her- since she really should know there are other places to go besides the grocery store. She mostly nods in response, and Brittany can’t help but wonder if maybe she’d used up all her words with her very long rant about her hatred for most of the human race. Maybe Santana would like her cat, Brittany thinks. He’s nosy, but at least he doesn’t talk back, or tell her that she’s probably too old to be living above her grandmother’s garage.

“Do you like cats?” Brittany blurts out, mentally cursing herself because that totally wasn’t supposed to be out loud.

“What?” Santana scrunches her face in confusion, trying not to sound too harsh.

“Uh, I was just wondering if you liked cats…I have a cat and I think you two would get along.” This was not the conversation that she intended to have with Santana in one of the few one on one moments they’ve had so far.

“Wow. I guess I’ve really reached a whole new level, haven’t I? Just call me Angela Martin, since apparently I exude crazy cat lady?”

"No, Santana, that’s not…My cat he’s just a really good listener and he doesn’t talk back and he kind of does his own thing, kind of like you. You know what, forget I said anything.”

“Okay…” Santana trails off, thinking maybe she was wrong about who in this conversation is actually the cat lady. But she doesn’t say anything, she figures she probably shouldn’t be rude to the only person who’s been genuinely nice to her in a long time.

They continue to drive in silence, Santana feeling a little guilty that she’d snapped at Brittany and Brittany feeling a little embarrassed because yes, excellent idea, telling this beautiful woman about how she has so much in common with your cat. Genius. It’s awkward, the rest of the way, and Brittany grits her teeth at the person in front of her, driving nineteen miles per hour in a thirty mile per hour zone. She just wants to be at the diner, where there are menus, and Ida Hart, with her sassy commentary, to distract from the palpable silence that is this car ride. They pull into the parking lot after the longest two mile span ever, and Brittany can’t scramble out of the truck fast enough. She opens the door for Santana, and she slides out, following Brittany behind, as they enter the diner and seemingly walk back in time sixty years. They make their way in and there is an honest to God bell above the door that rings when they pass through.

“Brittany! Hey!” A middle aged woman with her hair pulled back in a bun, and acid washed jeans that come up above her belly button calls out, sashaying over from the counter.

“Hey, Ida! How’s it going?“

"Same old, same old. Got one of your flashy college friends in town?” She nods to Santana.

“Oh, no this is Santana. I’m doing some work at her farm and we thought we’d take a break for some food.”

“You live here?” Ida looks Santana up and down, the designer jeans, the black tank top, the too clean sneakers.

“For now.”

“Mind if we sit down, Ida? We’ve been working pretty hard all morning, and I’m half starved.” Brittany makes a dramatic effort of rubbing her stomach, seeing the sort of icy exchange, between Santana and Ida.

“Sure, honey. Take a seat wherever you’d like. You know the drill.”

Brittany heads over to the booth by the window, same place she sits every time, and Santana slides in across from her, lifting the slightly sticky menu from the table between her fingers that used to be so well manicured, but now sort of look a little grubby. The thought stings her a little, reminding her of her conversation with Kurt, the constant undertones of you don’t belong here running through her mind. She grits her teeth in an internal effort to prove him wrong, and looks over at Brittany.

“So what’s good here? Besides the shakes.”

“Everything, Ida’s husband Bill is a legend. I’m getting a BLT. I always do.”

“I haven’t had bacon in…I don’t know, ten years?”

Brittany gawks at her for at least thirty seconds, “What? Wait, are you a vegetarian?”

“No, I just used to eat mostly sushi, and wedge salads. Kurt and I went out most of the time, and he’s kind of a snob. Except when he gets these ridiculous cravings for McDonald’s. Usually when he’s drunk, and usually at two-am.”

“Oh, well, um, I can’t say that the sushi prospects around here are very good…or existent really…there may be a salad on the menu…” Brittany replies as she flips her menu over to look. “Well, I think all of the salads have bacon in them too…or chopped up cheeseburgers.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m going to have the BLT too.” Santana feels like it’s some sort of act of rebellion, against Kurt, against her old life, against fucking sushi. “With extra bacon.”

“Alright then.”

They place the order, Ida still eying Santana suspiciously, like she does with all newcomers, and Santana gets quiet again. Picking at her cuticles. She feels Brittany staring at her, and she snaps her head up, her eyes narrowing of their own accord. She’s distrustful, she’s suspicious, and she feels that she’s earned the right to be, really.

“You want to ask me.”

“I don’t. I figure if you want to talk about it you will.”

“If I want to talk about it.” Santana laughs, the bitterness, making Brittany shiver. “If I want to. Like I wanted any of this. I got fired. From the job that I loved. I was a news writer, for one of the biggest magazines to come out of New York City. And I was the best. I worked my whole life to be the best. Except my boss wanted to fuck me, and he walked around thinking he was entitled to that. So one day, it just-it got to be too much so I went off on him, I turned him down ruthlessly. And then he got one of his douchebag buddies to say we were sleeping together, and he fired me, calling it a breach of the non-fraternization policy. So I took him to court, and I, I wasn’t out…not at work.”

“I…” Brittany starts, but Santana just keeps talking. It’s obvious, already, that this woman talks in ranting spurts. She can go weeks without saying much more than a muttered complaint about the dirt, but once she gets started, she can’t stop herself.

“Going in, I already had two strikes against me. Being a woman is one thing, and then I’m Latina too. I figured, they couldn’t see the lesbian, so I could avoid striking out if I kept that to myself.”

“That seems like a pretty terrible way to have to live.”

“No, it was fucking fantastic. I loved going to work parties alone, or with Kurt, and looking over my shoulder any time I was out with a woman, afraid that someone from work might be lurking in the background.” Santana’s angry sarcasm bites Brittany, and she winces a little. “Wasn’t bad enough having to come out and be rejected by my own grandmother the first time, I had to add outing myself in front of a judge and half of my work colleagues for good measure. Because apparently being gay is the only defense in saying that I didn’t fuck some sleazeball guy.”

"I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, whatever. Everyone’s sorry. Or, everyone that doesn’t think I shouldn’t have lived authentically to begin with is sorry. Just because my friend Kurt walks around with a fire truck behind him in case he bursts into flames doesn’t mean that’s me.”

“Look, I get it.”

“Sure you do.” Santana has to roll her eyes, sizing Brittany up. “Looks like you’ve got all kinds of experience facing this kind of crap. You with the blonde hair and the blue eyes, and probably some high school boyfriend you’re going to marry and have two-point-five kids with. You’re like freaking Taylor Swift, or something.”

“Okay, first, are you hating on Taylor Swift? Because you don’t know her. And second, you don’t know me either, and I brought you here because you’re upset and I thought I could cheer you up. But if you’re just going to be a bitch, then we can go.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m a bitch because I’m angry. Because I’m just sick of hearing that people understand, when I know they can’t.”

“Maybe because you don’t give them a chance to. You’re so quick to assume I’m straight. I guess you’ve missed me blatantly checking you out while you throw shit around and sulk on your porch, or, you know, watch me load my tools into the back of my truck.”

"You’re not…straight?”

“No, I’m not. Myth busted. See what happens when you get to know people instead of shutting yourself in your musty hoarder home, Bertha Mason?”

“I don’t think Bertha Mason shut herself in the house- Wait, did you just referenceJane Eyre?”

“Yes I did. Bet you didn’t know I went to college either. MIT. Four years. And I hated every second of it. I couldn’t wait to get back home and put my hands in the dirt.”

“Wow. That’s…not what I expected at all, actually.”

“My point exactly. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. But I think-” Brittany can’t help but reach across the table, brushing the back of Santana’s hand with her pointer. “That maybe if we got to know each other, we’d have a lot more in common than you think. Can we try this normal conversation thing? Where you don’t yell at me, and I don’t tell you that you should be friends with my cat?”

Santana chuckles a little in relief, “Yeah I think we can do that. And I’m sorry… for being all broody and snappy all the time. You’ve been nothing but nice to me since I met you and I know you don’t deserve Auntie Tana’s Bitchtown Express treatment.”

"Did you just…refer to yourself as Auntie Tana? A…train conductor?” Santana flushes and rolls her eyes.

“Says the girl who’s cat is apparently a part time therapist.”

“Hey, he really helped me get through MIT. I couldn’t have done it without him. Plus, he’s totally like a brother to me.”

“Your cat is like your brother?” Santana raises an eyebrow in question.

“Mostly. I was twelve when I found out about Britney not being my sister, and I was pretty depressed about it. I, like, walked around wearing this World’s Best Grandma shirt I got my Gram at the school fair for like two weeks, and didn’t want to go outside. So she bought him to cheer me up. She, um, mostly raised me. My mom had me really young, and kind of just did her own thing. She didn’t really think having a kid through, so Gram was the constant in my life.”

“Oh, wow. So, did you see your mom at all?”

“Yes and no. She moved around a lot, and even though people think my grandma is crazy sometimes, she actually knows that a kid needs to stay in one place, so she kept me here in Copper Hollow. Mom was fine with that, she didn’t fight her when she asked for guardianship or anything, after I fell out of a tree and broke my arm, and she had trouble at the hospital, when she didn’t have any legal jurisdiction over me. I didn’t mind either, because, well, Gram is Gram, and she felt like my adult anyway. She’s the one who changed my diapers and read me stories and brought me to her room when I had nightmares. Mom sort of came and went, she took me to R-rated movies, and out for ice cream, she brought me gifts from wherever she went off to. Like, a cool older sister, or something. She’s in California now, I’ve been out there a couple times. I love her, she’s my mom and stuff, and she did what was best for me, really, but honestly, I just don’t really know her. I guess Gram is really my person, you know?“

"I can imagine.” Santana nods. She has a good relationship with her parents, but it sounds like what Brittany has with her grandmother is pretty special. “She just must have been really proud of you when you got into MIT. What did you study there?” Santana purses her lips. It’s really been a long time, since she’s done this getting to know someone thing.

“I…math, mostly? I failed my senior year of high school, and then when I took my SATs, I ended up with a perfect score. Everyone thought it was a fluke, but MIT tested me, and apparently I had these latent math abilities that no one ever noticed. Maybe it was because my grandma is a really big hippy, and she thought a lot of the crap they were teaching us at school was unnecessary, and she said I learned more playing in the dirt, I don’t know. Anyway, they recruited me immediately.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t want to complain. I probably would have failed high school the second time too, so it was a good opportunity. It just wasn’t what I expected. They offered me a teaching fellowship, but I turned it down and came home. I didn’t like the city, or math, really. I just wanted to plant flowers and hang out with my grandma. She was the first one who told me if I wasn’t happy, then come home. She’d have the apartment above the garage ready for me, and that I could live there as long as I wanted. Wow. That sounded so lame. That is so lame, but, it makes me happy.”

“I don’t think it’s lame. It’s kind of sweet. So many people get stuck in jobs that they hate because they’re too scared to do what they love. I think it’s pretty impressive that you broke the mold.”

"Thanks. It’s been an adventure for me, but I think I’m doing an okay job. Don’t be surprised though if my grandmother knocks on your door and asks to take pictures of your property when it’s done. She’s kind of my biggest fan. She prints these really crappy low quality pictures out and hangs them on her fridge.” Brittany is blushing and Santana is smiling softly at how adorable it is. Then Brittany sort of looks down, thinking it’s probably a little insensitive to talk about how proud her grandma is of her, when she knows Santana is still so angry about hers– she just didn’t think.

“That’s really cute.”

“I’m just really lucky, I think.“

They’re actually opening up to each other, but Brittany quickly changes the subject away from her grandmother, from grandparents and family in general. She doesn’t know the details of Santana’s situation, and she doesn’t want anything to set back this progress they’re making. But Santana, on the other hand, is given some perspective from it. She might not have had her grandma continue to love her, but she had both parents at home growing up. And really, hearing Brittany talk about doing what it is that makes her happy, and about how she’s okay, even with her different than normal childhood, that’s pretty special.

"So you’re a writer? That’s pretty impressive and somehow it doesn’t surprise me. ”

“Why?” Santana’s eyes crinkle, but don’t narrow defensively.

“I don’t know, you just, strike me as the pensive intelligent type. And now that I know you’re a writer, it makes sense to me.”

“I don’t know if I can really consider myself one anymore. I haven’t written a single word since I’ve been here.”

Brittany smiles apologetically, “You’ve had a lot on your mind it seems. I don’t know a lot about writing but I do know that writer’s block gets even the best writers sometimes.”

“I guess. I’m just used to hard hitting news. Doesn’t seem like there’s much of that going on around here.”

“I don’t know, someone’s dog got into the Wegmans the other day and caused a pretty big scene…”

“I heard all about it.”

“Oh, I forgot, your girlfriend works there.”

“Whatever, she gives me gossip and I give her five minutes of company every week. It’s a win-win.”

“Whatever you say, Santana, you and Red enjoy your gossip, while she pretends she has to card you for the beer you buy.”

“Sounds like someone is a little jealous of Edna.” Santana ribs Brittany.

“Nah, not at all. Haven’t you heard? Blondes totally have more fun.”

The rest of the meal continues like that, talking with this ease Santana is shocked by. She feels surprisingly comfortable, biting into her giant sandwich, and letting out what would normally be a very embarrassing moan. Brittany though, is just grinning across the table at her.

“I told you it was amazing.”

“I don’t know why I went so long without bacon.”

“It’s a true tragedy. Bacon is just so awesome.”

When they leave, Ida seems to have defrosted, just a little, toward Santana, and Santana gives her a small wave, as they head back to the car. The awkwardness that was there when they drove out is gone, and it’s replaced by more easy conversation. It’s much later than either of them thought, when they’re pulling back up the long driveway, and Santana knows Brittany is probably done for the day.

“Sorry my meltdown cost you half a day, but thanks for taking me to the diner.”

“Technically, you took me, since you fought me for the check and all.” Brittany grins, showing all her teeth.

Santana laughs a little and, “Well, thank you for letting me take you to the diner. It’s the least I could do, after you saved me from a day of sulking and throwing shit around.” She’s just, looking at Brittany’s face. She looks so earnest and kind, and it warms her up inside.

“My pleasure.” Brittany kind of whispers back.

Tentatively, she reaches over and wipes a smudge of dirt that must have gotten on Santana’s face from driving with the windows open. Santana reaches up to hold her hand there and she’s leaning in before she knows what’s happening. Their lips, they almost touch, before Santana is hit hard with reality, and she jerks back.

“I. I’ve gotta go. Night, Brittany.”

“Wait!” Brittany calls out, but Santana is out of the car and into the house before Brittany can even process what almost happened.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

She drops her head back against the back of the door, and she sinks down to the floor. Because Brittany was just being nice to her, and she had to go and do something stupid. She can’t do this. This is so hypocritical, she shouldn’t even be entertaining this. Brittany works for her, the irony of the situation is not lost on her, and she just sits there, contemplating her bad decisions for a long time, before she finally hears Brittany’s truck pull away.

When Brittany shows up for work the next day, Santana stays in the house. She isn’t ready to face her, she isn’t ready to talk about what had almost happened. She continues that for a few days, until she realizes, she really misses hanging out with Brittany. That she’d really enjoyed their lunch together at the diner, and even though that was the first time they ever really had a conversation, she wants more of that. She wants to develop a friendship. So she wanders out to the barn four days later, and rather than mention it at all, Brittany just hands her a hammer, and asks her if she wants to help with pulling up the floorboards.


	4. July & August

They work side by side again, in the barn, out on the property, putting in the apple trees Brittany ordered, checking that the new grass is growing. Brittany’s never had a client work with her before, but, this is different. Santana is different. Santana learns how to use a power drill and feels ridiculously proud of herself for it. And they talk. They really talk. It’s a different kind of friendship than any Santana has ever had. And even after Kurt calls to apologize to her, and they make up, this thing she has with Brittany, it’s still something really special. Brittany tells her she wants to be totally honest with her, and that she’d met her abuela because she and Brittany’s Gram had gone to book club together, and she’d started coming over to the farm to help with things, since she’d felt bad that she was all alone out here. Santana doesn’t begrudge her, it stings for a minute, knowing that her grandmother had a sort of adopted granddaughter, but she can’t hold that against Brittany. In the deep, deep part of her heart, the part not marred by bitterness, she’s kind of glad that her grandmother had someone to help her out when she’d needed it.

The farm, it really looks like it’s coming together. She may not have it in her to write anymore, but she feels like she’s really accomplishing something, helping Brittany out with the property, and working inside the house to rid it of the piles of clutter that her grandmother seemed to accumulate over the years. It feels like she’s bringing this place back to life after it laid dormant for so long. Like maybe she’s breathing some life into herself too.

It’s late on the last evening of June, and the two of them are sitting on the porch. They’re hot and sweaty from a long day of work, and Santana had offered Brittany a beer to cool down, finally having the drink together they’d talked about the very first time they’d met.

“Hey Santana? Do you have any plans for the 4th of July?”

“Sure, Brittany, you know me. I’m always full of plans. When you’re at your other jobs, I have huge parties. Hire a bunch of strippers, you know, pop some bottles…”

Brittany snorts, “Well, now I feel completely left out. But if you are up for a much less exciting evening than strippers and booze, there is a 4th of July Fair that the town puts on every year. It’s hokey and ridiculous but it’s kind of a tradition. You want to maybe go with me? A bunch of my friends are going.” She adds really quickly. They’re still actively avoiding talking about what happened after that day at the diner, and she doesn’t want to misstep. “It’s just going to be food, music, beer and some fireworks when it gets dark. Nothing fancy, but it’s always a good time.”

“That sounds like fun. I’ve never been to anything like that before.”

Brittany grins widely, “Well, I’m glad I can show you how tiny little towns celebrate literally everything.”

"How very Gilmore Girls.” Santana laughs. “When are you taking me to my first town meeting?”

“I’ve been banned from the town meetings.” Brittany looks down, biting her lower lip.

Santana’s jaw drops, “Oh my god, Britt. What did you do?”

“I helped my Gram climb up this old tree they wanted to cut down when I was eighteen. And then created total chaos in the town. Both of us are banned for ten years. I’m allowed to go back in October….” Brittany has a glint of pride in her eyes. “We did attract the attention of the International Oak Society though. So the tree’s still there. I’ll have to show it to you sometime.”

“I absolutely need to see the tree worthy of a ten year ban. So you guys have your own Taylor Doose then?”

“Oh, trust me, you’ve seen nothing until you’ve seen Rachel Berry. She’ll be there, so, you’ll see what I mean.”

“What about your grandma? Will I finally get to meet the Copper Hollow legend?”

“Not this year.” Brittany shakes her head. “She’s going down to DC for a climate march on Tuesday. Can’t expect a small town tradition to stop her from saving the world, even though she rarely passes up the chance to let Rachel have it.”

–

On the morning of the 4th of July, Santana is really living up to her self-appointed title as mad woman in her (slightly less) musty home. She has absolutely no idea what a person is supposed to wear to a small town 4th of July picnic, or whether her red dress with the singular pair of non-sneaker blue flats she owns looks like she’s trying too hard.

"When did I become the bastion of patriotism?” She mumbles to herself, as she turns back and forth in front of the mirror. “But they like that in these small towns, right? Wasn’t there a 4th of July episode of Everwood? Oh my God, and I’m talking to myself. I thought I was getting less crazy, but apparently I’m still one pair of shoes away from meeting Nurse Ratchett.”

She takes a deep breath before checking the clock beside her bed, Brittany will be there soon and she should probably not find her standing in her room alone conversing with her reflection when she gets there. Brittany hasn’t even been in her room, which would make the whole thing that much more absurd. She pointedly avoids thinking of a reason in which Brittany would need to be in her room. They’re just friends. It’s not like this is a date. The dress is fine, the shoes are fine. She needs to go downstairs now.

With one last look at herself, she makes her way downstairs to wait for the telltale sound of Brittany’s truck coming up the driveway. She sits on the porch, considering, as she does every time she’s out there, ordering something, anything to replace this crappy old wicker, despite the fact that Brittany repeatedly insists that it gives the place character. She wonders if she could replace it with newer wicker, wicker than doesn’t make her feel like she’s sitting on a chair made by a preschooler using toothpicks and glue. Something that would maintain the character, without stabbing her ass regularly. Somehow her mind shifts to Brittany building furniture, since she’s really incredible with her hands– not like that– when the sound of the truck jars her back. She can feel herself blushing at her own thoughts because maybe just a little like that. She shakes her head and stands up to wait for Brittany to reach the house. Brittany jumps out, her legs on display in torn up shorts, and a white tank top with a red belt (making Santana really glad she’d chosen to be festive) and a beaming grin on her face.

“Hey you!”

“Hi, Britt. Happy 4th of July.” Santana mentally palms her face, as soon as the words are out, because do people actually say that?

Brittany just grins wider, “Well aren’t you patriotic today? Happy 4th of July to you too. You look great by the way, I love that dress”

“It’s been awhile since I could wear my regular clothes.” Santana laughs. “I didn’t think this would be suitable for digging in the dirt.”

“Oh, I think you could dig in the dirt just fine in that, although I wouldn’t recommend it, if for no other reason than I’d hate to see you ruin your dress”

“This dress might have cost me more than I could probably sell this house for right now.”

“Well then we’ll definitely have to keep you out of the dirt then won’t we? You ready to go?“

"I am, let’s see how this small town parties.”

The drive to the center of town doesn’t take very long. The closer they get the more Santana notices that the entirety of the town square has been decked out with decorations. Red, white, and blue streamers adorn every lamppost and stoplight. It really looks like something out of an Americana painting, and Santana is taken aback. She’s actually a little charmed by the whole thing. She’d made her jokes, but, she’d never believed it was actually like this. She was pretty sure that places like this didn’t exist outside of 1950’s nostalgia movies. But, here she is, in her red dress, driving straight through it.

Brittany parks her truck in this big dirt field, and Santana watches as a huge guy runs up to her and lifts her in a big bear hug. Santana climbs out of the truck and slowly makes her way to where Brittany and her friends are. She can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy, when she sees this attractive man with his arms around Brittany. She knows she’s being ridiculous, they’re not a thing, not at all, but, it boils, low in her belly. She stands back away from them while they catch up, trying not to interrupt (or pull Brittany away from him, if she’s being honest). And then Brittany turns to her, big smile on her face, and beckons her over. Santana hopes that she doesn’t have her bitch face on, but she’s pretty sure she does, as she shuffles over to them.

“Guys, this is Santana!” She tells them, excitedly. “Santana, these are my friends Dave, Mike, and Tina”

“So this is the city girl.” Dave chuckles, and Tina puts an elbow in his ribs. Santana’s eyes narrow on instinct

“Hey, she lives here now. And she’s doing very well at adapting to small town life.” Brittany comments, shooting Dave a look.

“I wasn’t insulting, promise!” Dave holds his hands up in defense, and then reaches out to take Santana’s. “Nice to meet you, City Slicker.”

“Likewise…”

Santana introduces herself to Mike and Tina, who apparently have the same last name, but aren’t siblings, and really, no matter how hard she tries, she can’t help but watch Dave closely. She can’t help but count every inch that separates him and Brittany, and judge their every interaction.

“So, you ready to see the 134th annual Copper Hollow 4th of July Fair?”

"I am. Let’s see if it’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Brittany grins and hooks her arm through Santana’s as she leads her down Main Street. She knows that Santana keeps a lot to herself, in Copper Hollow, and so, while she interacts with her friends, she does hang back a bit, joking with Santana, trying to make her comfortable, and hoping that she’s having a good time. Dave seems to be hanging out mostly with Tina and Mike and Santana is a little curious what the dynamic is, since Brittany seems content to stick by her side. Then, as she watches him up ahead quite obviously check out the guy leaning over the slam-the-hammer-down-on-one-of-those-giant-thermometer-things she’s only seen in movies, it hits her, and she can’t help the words that escape her lips.

“Dave’s gay?” She blurts out, while Brittany blinks for a second and turns to look at her.

“Yeah? Why?”

“I…I just thought he and you…” She’s stuttering a bit, and wondering why she always puts her foot in her mouth around this girl.

“Oh Santana, not at all.” Brittany giggles. “I mean, for a little while, back in high school. But I knew he was gay the whole time, I just figured I’d help him hide it until he was ready to come out.”

“That’s really great of you, Britt.”

Santana lets the hot dog eating contest that’s beginning across the way catch her eye, and though Brittany can’t help but wonder…she lets it go. There’s a shift in Santana’s mood, after that. She ends up talking with Tina about the shows she’s seen on Broadway, and even going as far as telling Dave that she thinks he’d like her friend Kurt, when he’s not being a complete meddling jerk. Brittany watches on and feels an overwhelming sense of happiness that Santana is getting along so well with her friends now. She tries not to put too much stock into why it feels so important, and she chalks it up to just being glad that Santana is out, and she’s smiling around someone other than her.

Late in the afternoon, clouds roll in, big, dark, heavy, and the chatter around the fair, especially when Rachel Berry gets up to sing the Star Spangled Banner and hits an ear splitting high note that makes everyone, especially Santana, cringe, is whether or not the weather will hold for the fireworks. They spend the rest of the afternoon playing the little games set up and eating way more food than is necessary. The rain seems to be holding off so far as the sun goes down and people start settling in for the fireworks show. Brittany goes out to her truck, leaving Santana on the line for funnel cake, and she comes back with a big blanket.

“Cold?” Santana looks down at the blanket in Brittany’s hands.

“Just figured we’d spread this out on the grass so we have the best view.” She shrugs.

“That’s a really good idea actually.”

“Duh, I’ve done these things once or twice, or twenty-nine times.”

Santana smiles and nudges her shoulder, “I’m glad because I didn’t even think about having to sit in the grass in this short dress.”

“I was a Girl Scout, I’m always prepared.” Brittany salutes, making Santana giggle. “Should we get one funnel cake or two? How hungry are you?”

“I’m not actually hungry, I just felt like we should be eating it. American tradition or something, right? I’m making up for all my years of not doing this in one day. If you’re okay with sharing…”

Brittany laughs a little, “We can definitely share.”

They get the funnel cake, and they head out to the hill, where everyone seems to be setting up. While Santana holds the funnel cake, Brittany spreads the blanket out on the ground, and once she sits, she pats the space beside her, inviting Santana. Santana sits down beside Brittany with the plate of funnel cake in front of them.

“It should be starting in a few minutes.”

“Where’d everyone else go?”

“Well, looks like Mike and Tina are over there making out on their blanket.” Brittany points, and Santana squeaks out something that sounds like an ew. “They’re not siblings, remember? And, look, it looks like Dave found someone to share his with too.”

“Hey, Brittany? Thanks for inviting me here today.” Santana looks at her, just as the loud popping noise in the distance indicates the beginning of the fireworks. “This is the best time I’ve had in a while.”

“You’re welcome, thank you for coming with me. I think this has been my favorite 4th of July Fair yet.”

“Yeah?” Santana asks, her eyes flickering down to Brittany’s lips. She sees a smudge of white, from the powdered sugar, and her thumb comes up, gently brushing it away. Brittany’s smiling softly at Santana and she can feel the swell of the moment. She feels this pull, the same pull she’d felt last month in the truck, except now, now she can’t resist it. And she doesn’t want to. Her heart begins to hammer in her chest, as she feels how soft they are, how inviting, and she looks back into Brittany’s eyes. “Brittany. I’d really like to kiss you.”

Brittany can’t seem to remember how to speak so she just nods. Santana brings the rest of her hand up, so she’s holding Brittany’s cheek, and she sucks in a breath, before she leans in, and their lips touch. Brittany leans further into the kiss and they distantly hear the fireworks exploding above them followed by a loud crack of thunder. Before they can even react, the sky opens up, and rain comes down in a deluge. They break away in surprise before they’re overcome with laughter. Brittany stands up and pulls Santana up with her.

“Dance with me!”

“What?” Santana gasps, but lets Brittany pull her close. “Are you crazy? We’re going to get struck by lightning and die!”

Brittany leans in and kisses her softly. “We’re not going to die, just, dance with me. Just for a minute.”

“Okay.” Santana nods. She doesn’t even know who she is right now. Her whole body, her whole soul feels like it’s made of lightness and air, and she wraps her arms around Brittany’s neck, dancing with her, in the pouring rain.

Santana’s wrapped in Brittany’s arms, when lightning flashes through the sky. She jumps, startled, and her eyes are wide.

Brittany laughs a little, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, can we?” Santana’s voice is a little shaky, and Brittany grabs her hand, making a run for the truck.

They laugh the whole way and even though it’s pouring and Brittany is soaked, she still runs around and opens the door for Santana. They’re out of breath when they get in the car and Santana throws her head back, laughter seizing her whole body. Brittany just has to pause and watch her, because as beautiful as Santana is normally, seeing her like this, soaked from the rain and laughing like that, it’s something else entirely. Santana turns to face her, with the biggest smile on her face. She’s high on sugar and raindrops and Brittany.

“Go out with me. On a date, a real date. Would you go on a date with me?”

“On a date?” Brittany’s a little stunned, because she didn’t know if the kissing and the dancing was just a product of place and time, but her heart pounds in her chest when Santana starts nodding vigorously. She leans over the console, and she presses her lips back to Santana’s, murmuring against them. “Yes, yes. I’d love to go on a date with you.“

Their first date goes off without a hitch - in spite of the bubbling nerves on both ends, and Santana’s concern about dating Brittany, who is still working for her. Not wanting to be the subject of small town gossip, she finds a little German restaurant forty-five minutes away, and she finally sees where Brittany lives, when she picks her up. Since then they’ve been on several dates and Santana has found herself relaxing at the idea of them dating. She’s not her boss, this is completely consensual. But still, she’s cautious, even with Brittany staying late on days she’s working on the property, now working to level some of the property that was dredged by the storm, to have dinner with her, and coming to pick her up to go out on days she doesn’t.

The prospect of dating Santana is weighing on Brittany’s mind as well. She loves nothing more than spending time with her but she knows that she’s been hurt before. Sensing Santana’s hesitations, given what had happened to her at her former job, she gently reminds her that since she’s getting most of the money for the job from the insurance company, technically she’s only partially working for Santana, and either way, there’s no taking advantage involved. She feels like she needs to go slowly. Still though, she’s purposely not jumping on giving what they’re doing a name, and even more importantly, though neither have ever done anything in this way before, they’re holding off on getting any more physical than their (increasingly frequent) teenage-style make out sessions on the new couch Santana finally ordered to replace the old springy one she’d complained about for months. Honestly Brittany doesn’t mind the holding off, it’s a mutual unspoken decision, and she thinks it’s probably for the best, given how her head spins just from Santana’s kisses. She feels like she needs the time to prepare herself.


	5. September

The majority of their summer consists of hard work, Brittany trying to get all she’s been contracted for done before the fall cold sets in, and Santana, making real progress on cleaning out the house- though her writing still remains untouched. Though they’re still keeping things low key, they have gone on a few double dates with Mike and Tina, and Santana’s a welcome guest at any affair Dave throws at his house.

They’ve been doing this thing for almost two months now, and it’s become obvious to Brittany’s grandmother that someone has her completely besotted, but just who that is, she’s yet to wheedle out of her. She just– this feels special, and she wants to introduce them properly. When the time comes. They’ve just about finished all the work on the barn, with the painting already started, and they’re sitting out on the porch as the sunsets, Santana half in Brittany’s lap in the wicker chair she still hasn’t brought herself to throw out.

“Hey San, can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course, Britt.” Santana’s playing with the ends of her hair a little, not entirely realizing that she’s doing it.

“Would you…um, well my Gram, she keeps asking who’s putting this dopey smile on my face all the time. And I was thinking, would you be okay meeting her? Maybe coming over to her house for dinner sometime?”

“I…I’ve never done that before.” She worries her lip between her teeth and squints her eyes, thinking.

“I haven’t really either. But, hey, you can think about it, I don’t need an answer right now. It was just something I’ve been thinking about.”

“No. No, I don’t need to think about it. I’d, I’d really like to meet her. If you want me to.”

“Really? I’d really like you too. She’s dying to meet you actually.”

“She is? If I meet her, do you think Rachel Berry will leave me alone if she knows I know her? Because I saw her in Wegmans this morning and she talked to me for forty-five minutes about how I’ve lived here too long to have never been to a town meeting.”

“It’s definitely worth a try. She’s scared of Gram, so I think your odds are good.”

“Next month I get to see it in action, right?”

“You better believe it.”

“So, when would this dinner be?” Santana looks at Brittany.

“Uh… I hadn’t thought that far,” Brittany replies with an embarrassed chuckle. “Maybe Sunday night?”

“Oh.” Santana is quiet for a minute. She knows, no matter what, Sunday night is the night both Brittany and her grandmother set aside. They don’t worry about work, or protests, or the new invasive species of moss that could change the ecosystem, they just have dinner and enjoy each other’s company, even if sometimes they’re too busy for it the rest of the week. “You’re inviting me to weekly dinner?”

“The invitation is open, honey, but you don’t need to feel pressured to go.”

“No, I just.” Santana starts, then decides against it. “Never mind.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I was just thinking. Sunday dinner, meeting your grandma…are we…we’re more than just dating, aren’t we?”

“I think… I think I’d really like us to be. If that’s something you want too.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

“Yeah?” Brittany’s smile spreads across her face.

“Totally.” Santana tilts her chin up, and she catches Brittany’s bottom lip between hers.

Brittany breaks away long enough to whisper “Awesome” before leaning back in. The rest of their evening is spent in much the same position and neither of them can find it in themselves to be embarrassed about making out on the front porch.

If Santana thought she was a wreck preparing for anything else in her life, it would pale in comparison to her preparations for dinner with the most important woman in Brittany’s life. She spends hours trying to decide what to wear, what’s appropriate for meeting your girlfriend’s (girlfriend’s!) grandmother. She doesn’t want to look like she’s trying too hard, and Brittany keeps telling her to just be herself. But the problem is, the herself that she is now, and the herself that her wardrobe fits have started to seem like two different people. She’s battling between looking nice, and looking pretentious, her overpriced wardrobe seems awkward and out of place with the person she’s become. Once half of her clothes are strewn about the bed and the floor, she finally settles on dark jeans, and a long sweater that hopefully covers the designer tag in the back. She used to wear them for the sole purpose of people knowing how much they cost, but now, that just feels sort of foolish. She grabs some flats out of her closet and slips them on and decides if she doesn’t get out of her bedroom now, she’ll overthink this until she misses dinner altogether.

When she gets downstairs, she grabs the bunch of sunflowers that she’d picked up at Wegmans in the morning to bring to Brittany’s grandma, and she thinks maybe, next year, she’d like to plant them out behind the house. She stops for a minute when she realizes she said next year. And she realizes, she might have made this decision to stay without even noticing. She feels like she should feel more alarmed than she does, but mostly, she just feels content. There’s something about this place, this feeling of being settled that she’s never experienced before. She thinks about leaving and her brow furrows because she can’t just leave Brittany. Not when she’s just found her. She thinks maybe that should give her more pause, they’ve only known each other for six months, but the thought of some kind of future, it seems inevitable. She’s so lost in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice Brittany sitting on the couch in the living room when she gets down there.

“Santana… you look beautiful.”

“Jesus fuck!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t meant to scare you! Your front door was open. And I kind of wanted to make sure you were okay…is it okay that I came in?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Santana grips her chest a little, calming down her heart. “Just, thought you might have been a bear.”

“…a bear?”

“I don’t know, or a possum…I think about it at night sometimes. What if a wild animal broke in here and attacked me?”

“Possums are way scarier than bears… but I don’t think you have to worry about any wild animals breaking and entering and attacking you. Bears aren’t very good at picking locks, their paws are too big.”

“Well they could just…barrel down the door. I stopped taking honey in my tea, because I don’t want to keep it in the house.”

Brittany looks at her with a bemused smile, standing up, “You’re adorable you know that? I’ll protect you from all the rogue bears and possums okay?”

“Promise?” Santana stands on her tip toes to kiss Brittany.

“Promise. I’m a level five bear fighter, in case you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t. You’re just full of talents, aren’t you?”

“You’ll just have to stick around and see just how talented I can be.”

Santana swallows hard, her cheeks heating up. Brittany is smirking like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Just because they haven’t taken their relationship to the next level physically, that doesn’t mean they don’t engage in a little verbal foreplay.

“We should…what time is it? Should we go?” Santana blurts out.

“You’re right, it’s getting late.” Brittany kisses Santana’s cheek. “And nice flowers, are they for my grandma?”

Santana blushes a little, “Yeah, is it too much?”

“No, they’re perfect. Gram’s favorite too.”

“Lucky choosing on my part then, I was thinking, maybe of planting some around the back of the house next year. I’d forgotten how much I like them”

“Well, good thing I dug out some flower beds last week then.”

“So useful, you are.”

“I am. And maybe if you play your cards right, I’ll even help you plant.”

It kind of hits them both that Brittany’s job will be done soon. They’d talked about it, once they’d started even casually seeing each other, Santana insisting that their same agreement applied, no matter what, but it’s a strange realization that with the exception of the barn painting and the rest of the sprinkler system that Brittany has been working to install, they’re truly almost done with their professional arrangement. On one hand Santana is relieved that they won’t be employee and employer, but, on the other hand, she can’t help but be a little sad that Brittany won’t be around all day everyday anymore. That she’d actually have other jobs to attend to. It’s bad enough on the days she’s working somewhere else, and knowing that will be always, it sort of makes her heart sink. She wonders how they are going to work around it. They’ll find a way, she knows they will but right now it seems pretty scary.

Brittany brushes her thumb on the underside of Santana’s cheek, “Hey, you in there?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, no, I’m here.“

“You know I’m not going to leave you out here all alone in bear country just because the job is finished, right?”

Santana looks up at Brittany, “How did…”

“I’ve been thinking about it too.” She shrugs. “You’re not just hot female Boo Radley anymore though. You’re my girlfriend, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I’m simultaneously offended and flattered. Mostly flattered. I wouldn’t dare want to get rid of you.”

“Good, ‘cuz I’m not going anywhere. Except to dinner, because if we’re late, there probably won’t be any food left. Gram waits for no one. And trust me, she caneat.”

Santana’s eyes widen, “We’re late? Shit! Let’s go! This is a terrible first impression!”

“I’ll tell her I held you up.” Brittany winks, and Santana shakes her head frantically.

“Don’t you dare!“

Brittany chuckles and heads out the front door, Santana’s hand held firmly in her grasp. "We aren’t actually that late, babe. I live like five minutes from here, you know that.”

They head out to the car, Santana nervously clutching her bundle of sunflowers, until Brittany steals one hand away, holding it over the center console.

“It’s going to be fine, my grandma already loves you because you make me so happy. This is just putting a face to my stupid happy smile.”

Santana is always a little surprised, every time she arrives outside of Brittany’s house. She’d heard about her infamous Gram well before she’d ever picked Brittany up there, and she’s always sort of expecting that maybe the house will someday transform into a treehouse, or something. Quite the opposite is true though, Janet Pierce owns a huge old Victorian home with a wraparound porch, and true to both her and Brittany’s trade, the lawn is carefully manicured, and flowers bloom all around, the variety, depending on the season. Brittany, as she always does, rushes to open Santana’s door, and once her feet are on the ground, she takes Santana’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.

She kisses the top of her head, “You ready to meet Grams?”

“The legend herself.” Santana laughs a little. “She’s not going to have a shotgun, is she?”

“Santana, she’s a hippy, no guns, remember? Why do I get the feeling you picture my grandma as Elly May Clampett?

"I don’t know, she’s got a pretty big reputation around here.”

“She’s a lot more Greenpeace than Beverly Hillbillies, I promise.”

“Did I tell you that Edna once told me that your grandmother made Rachel Berry cry? But she never would tell me why or how…”

“Oh, I forgot, you’re still dating Red on the side.” Brittany pokes Santana in the ribs.

Santana shrugs, “Where else am I supposed to get the town gossip and extra Wegmans coupons?”

“Rude.” Brittany sticks out her tongue. “Guess I won’t tell you about both times she made Rachel cry then.”

“Both times? Well that makes me feel a lot calmer about meeting her…” Santana mumbles.

“Have you ever set up a collapsible stage in a snail breeding area?”

“Uh, can’t say that I have…”

“Okay, and I know you’ve never called me stupid, or, ‘simple minded,’ I think she put it. So, so far, you’ve given Gram no reason to make you cry. She’s going to love you, because-” Brittany pauses, just for a second. “Because you’re great. Come on.”

Santana’s head pulls back and she looks at Brittany, her eyes narrowing, “Berry called you stupid? Well, this town meeting this month just got a lot more interesting.”

“Gram and I are already betting how long we can go without receiving a new ban. Are you in too?”

“Absolutely.”

With Santana in tow, Brittany walks up onto the porch, and then straight in the front door. They’re barely in the entrance, when the big, black Newfoundland that Santana has only seen in pictures comes bounding into the room, nearly knocking her off her feet.

“Charlie! Charlie get down buddy! San, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think so.” Santana’s eyes are wide, as she watches her get similar treatment. “He’s-God he’s as big as a bear.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever seen a bear before, if you think that.” Janet Pierce appears in the entryway. Brittany was right, she’s definitely not like Santana had been picturing her at all. Her grey hair, falling in a braid halfway down her back, intricate looking beaded earrings and belt, matching a long, flowy dress, and canvas shoes. Her smooth face decorated with tiny smile lines around her mouth and her blue eyes. Those eyes, just like Brittany’s, dance when she smiles, and she looks Santana up and down, appraising her.

“Hey Gram!”

“Hey lovey, you’re late. I almost started without you.”

“I’m sorry, it was my fault, I was dawdling.”

"Well, quit dawdling now, and introduce me to this gorgeous creature.”

Brittany turns around and takes Santana’s hand again, “Gram, this beautiful girl is Santana Lopez. Santana this is Janet Pierce, my Gram.”

“Hi, Mrs. Pierce, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you.” Santana extends her hand, and Janet immediately pulls her into a hug. “Cut out that Janet Pierce crap right now. What am I, the President of the United States, although I’ll tell you right now, I’d be a damn better one than Bush was. Junior or Senior. You’re not a Republican, are you?”

“No ma'am not in a million years.”

“Gram, you know I would never date a Republican! Why would you even askthat?”

“I just have to check! You can’t ever be too sure with these moderates and this fiscally-conservative, socially-liberal crap. And you can drop all the missus and the ma'am stuff too, I’m not Emily Post either. You’re with Brittany, you call me Gram.”

Santana smiles a little, “Okay Gram, I’m glad to finally meet you, Brittany talks about you all the time.”

"I hope she didn’t give away all my best stories.” Janet shakes her head. “And I’d love to say she talks about you, but she just walks around with a goofy grin on her face instead. All I know is what your name is, and where you come from.”

Santana turns to look at Brittany and she’s a little pink in the cheeks. She touches her thumb to Brittany’s cheek, and then gives a goofy grin of her own.

“Oh, and these are for you, Gram.” She holds out the flowers, feeling shy about it, suddenly.

“Well aren’t you thoughtful. Did Brittany tell you sunflowers are my favorite?”

“She did. I’m glad, they’re one of my favorites too.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you Santana. Alright ladies let’s get to the table before Charlie decides to help himself to our dinner.”

Brittany presses her hand to the small of her back, and she leads Santana into the sunny kitchen. Her grandmother might not be the best cook, but what she does, she’s always done well, and she’s laid out a spread of roasted vegetables and grilled chicken thighs on the table. Brittany pulls out Santana’s chair, making her cheeks heat, when Janet raises her eyebrows at the two of them.

They eat dinner, and the big blackberry pie that Janet bought at Wegmans, winking at Santana, since apparently Brittany had told her about Edna, and making her duck her head in embarrassment. Santana gets quite the kick out of the stories Janet tells, from her anti-war protests in the sixties, to advocating for better healthcare for women by phone, with a little Brittany attached to her hip. She’s fascinated, hearing about this woman. About how when she realized she would be the one raising Brittany, she immediately put aside her wanderlust and settled down, taking Brittany to local protests and rallies, because she wanted her to know how change happens in the world, but also, knowing that for a little girl, there was an invaluable importance to being put to bed each night in the same place. Janet is better in person than Santana ever imagined, and she feels a rush of gratitude for this woman for being such a huge part of Brittany’s life. Now that she’s met her, she sees so much of her in Brittany, that it’s actually pretty unreal. When dinner’s done, Janet goes to take Charlie for a walk, and Brittany and Santana wash the dishes together, before Santana turns to Brittany, a hint of a smirk on her face.

“So, since you now let yourself into my house, do I at least get to see your apartment and meet my spirit animal?”

“Oh, so now you’re okay with him being your spirit animal? Because if I remember correctly, you were highly offended when I compared you to my cat.”

“Well that was before I heard just how awesome Tubbs really is.”

“Well I guess you can meet him then.” Brittany teases, flicking water from the sink in Santana’s face. “C'mon, let’s go. You can see my super awesome Full Housestyle garage apartment.”

“Does it come complete with Aunt Becky?”

Brittany smacks her arm, “Checking out other women are you? Hmm. Lord Tubbington won’t be pleased. First Edna now Aunt Becky? Who knew you were such a hound?”

“Well you’re my favorite…what do hounds hunt? Foxes? Like in the movie? Youare foxy, babe.”

“Not as foxy as you, and can we never mention The Fox and the Hound ever again? That movie was traumatizing…Gram never let me watch those kind of movies, but then I saw it at a sleepover once and I cried for a month.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Santana stands on her toes and kisses Brittany’s lips. “Come on, I’m going to get anxious about meeting him if we don’t go now.”

Brittany leads her out to the garage and up the stairs to her apartment door. She feels sort of funny inside, bringing Santana here. As much as Santana is who she is here, she’s from the big city, with big fancy friends, and this feels painfully quaint.

“So, uh, it’s nothing special…I mean it’s clean but it’s kind of small and I have a lot of stuff and…”

“Hey.” Santana takes her hands and swings them between their bodies. “It’s yours, so I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Brittany smiles a little nervously and nods before opening the door and letting Santana pass through. As soon as they walk in, Brittany hears Lord Tubbington scamper (or, as much of a scamper as a twenty-three pound cat can manage) off into hiding. Santana takes in her surroundings, the place, so very Brittany, drawings of plants, schematics, of sorts, stacks of landscaping books, an odd math textbook, cat toys, a photograph, of who Santana assumes is Brittany’s mother, and she’s hit with this great swell in her chest.

She looks over and Brittany is trying to get Lord Tubbington to come out from under the couch and she can’t even stop herself. “I love you.”

“What?” Brittany’s eyes widen and her jaw drops.

“You don’t have to…say it back. Oh my God.”

“Tell me again.” Santana doesn’t even hear Brittany, over her own rambling.

“You don’t have to…say it back. Oh my God. Wait. What?”

“Santana, tell me again. Say, say you love me again.”

“I love you, Brittany” Santana breathes out, much quieter than before, but no less true.

“I love you too.” Brittany looks at her, all soft eyes, and she’s not even sure if her words are anymore than a whisper. “A lot.”

“Really?” Santana squeaks.

“Really. Like, really, really.” Brittany pulls herself up off the floor, forgetting all about finding Lord Tubbington, and she presses her hands to Santana’s cheeks, and her lips to Santana’s, murmuring against them. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Santana is smiling so big that she can barely kiss properly, but neither of them mind. “Good. Good, I’m really glad about that.”


	6. October

As the days get shorter and cooler, Brittany finally finishes up with the land. It’s hard for Santana to believe that what once was some sort of post-apocalyptic wasteland is now this, neat rows of trees, flowerbeds, with bulbs tucked beneath the ground for spring, and even some tomato plants just off the porch, because Brittany claims it’s not a proper farm until there’s at least one type of savory food growing on it. The real work of the barn is finished as well, and Santana is insistent upon helping with the last coat of bright red paint that it needs. She’s amazed at the barn too, it looks like something out of an old movie, with its bright red paint and clean white trim. Santana is still not entirely sure what she’s going to do with a barn, but it’s there, it’s clean, and if nothing else, she can use it to house that crappy wicker furniture that may actually be some sort of antique, if she ever gets around to replacing it.

It’s the beginning of October, and it’s late afternoon. Santana, who’s finally caved and ordered what she calls her “actual work clothes that can get dirty” from LL Bean, since she figures she should use her computer for something, if not writing, is in overalls and a thermal shirt, hair pulled back in a braid. They’re working on the last side of the barn, and Brittany, who’d been on a ladder for most of the morning, is finally on the ground again, making Santana feel significantly less anxious.

“Have I told you today, how cute you look in that outfit?” Brittany grins, dipping her roller in the paint tray.

“Maybe once or twice.” Santana replies with a small smirk, “If I knew that these lesbian overalls were such a turn on, I would’ve bought them ages ago.”

“Lesbian overalls, huh?”

“I’ve never felt more like a lesbian in my life!” Santana nods, emphatically. Brittany just laughs because this girl is entirely ridiculous. She can think of a lot of ways that she might feel more like a lesbian.

“Are you okay, Britt?” Santana asks, noticing how flushed Brittany looks from her thoughts.

“Just looking at you, all sexy-like in those clothes.” Brittany looks her up and down, and then Santana, feeling playful, flings a glob of paint at Brittany.

Brittany feigns a gasp, “Miss Lopez, did you just fling paint at me?”

“Me? Never.” Santana presses her body against Brittany, pretending she’s about to kiss her, but then instead, brings her paintbrush up and drags the side down Brittany’s cheek.

“Oh my God!” Brittany leans back, and Santana is giggling. “You better run, Lopez!”

Santana takes off, laughing, with Brittany at her heels, the paint roller in her hand. They chase each other around the barn, shrieking and flinging paint, and finally, Brittany catches Santana around her waist, gripping her close and dragging the roller down her body. Santana struggles against her, and they collapse into the grass. Brittany leans down from above Santana and kisses her, effectively getting paint from Santana’s cheek on her own. Santana stops squirming beneath Brittany once she’s kissed, and she wraps her arms around Brittany’s neck, breathing her in.

“You got a little something, right here.” Santana says, dragging her finger through the paint on Brittany’s cheek.

“Hmm, wonder how that got there?” Brittany laughs, the vibrations in her belly rippling through Santana. Santana wants to reply with something clever or funny but instead she leans up and captures Brittany’s lips again, her hands wrapping around the back of her neck.

“I think.” She whispers against them, her voice, feeling even raspier than normal. “Maybe we should clean that up.”

Brittany looks down at her for a second, and gulps, “Okay.” Because really, it’s all she can manage at the sound of Santana’s voice and the look in her eyes.

Santana breathes in, and she slips out from beneath Brittany, reaching out for her hand. She knows, what’s about to happen, what she’s been waiting for the time to be right to happen, and never, never in her life, has she been more sure of her own desires. They walk in comfortable silence up to the house, their hands twined, sharing small bashful smiles. Brittany kicks off her workbooks on the porch, and Santana slides out of her paint covered sneakers. They’re careful, as they make their way up the stairs, into Santana’s bathroom, not to spread paint everywhere. Santana reaches in and starts the shower, before turning back to Brittany. Brittany takes Santana’s hands in hers, and she kisses the streak of paint from her lips. Squeezing Santana’s hands, Brittany loosens her grip. She brings one to the small of Santana’s back, and the other, up to pinch the red coated buckle of an overall strap between her thumb and forefinger.

“Can I…?”

“Uh huh.” Santana nods, her whole body tingling with anticipation.

Brittany never breaks eye contact as she unhooks the buckles and lets them fall to Santana’s sides. They’ve both done this before, many times, but somehow, this moment, just standing in the bathroom, covered in paint, exchanging small smiles, it feels like something new entirely. The normal pressure, the nerves, it’s not really there. It just feels comfortable. Santana loves Brittany, and Brittany loves Santana, and the feelings, maybe that’s what makes it all different, what makes it better.

They undress each other slowly, mapping each inch of each other’s bodies with their eyes, and then, in the shower, as they wash away the bright red paint, with their hands. It’s a slow build up, but after months of waiting, it has them both giddy. Giddy to the point of actual laughter, when they tumble, still damp, into Santana’s bed. There’s no rush, none at all, and when they’re sated, Santana’s head falls back against the pillow, and she opens her eyes, finding herself surrounded in deep blue. Brittany’s fingers draw lazy circles on the bare skin of her stomach, and Santana has the strength to do nothing but smile softly in response.

“Hi.” Brittany’s laughing again, just, because.

“Hey, you.” The rasp in Santana’s voice pulses through Brittany, and she leans up to kiss her mouth. Santana musters the strength to push into the kiss. “Can we not leave this bed for like a week?”

Brittany giggles, "If only that was a possibility.”

Santana curls herself into Brittany’s side, and she’s quiet for a little bit, taking it all in. Her eyes drift over to the window, the barn, visible through the old panes of glass, as the sun sets behind it. It’s done. They’ve finished the work that she’d hired Brittany to do, and now, now Brittany’s just her girlfriend, just this girl that she loves, a whole lot.

“Everything you did looks really good, Britt.” Santana traces her fingers over Brittany’s chest. “Kind of makes the house look shabbier in comparison.”

“Well I couldn’t have done it without your help.” Brittany whispers with a small smile.

“Thank you, for getting me out of the house. I probably would have gone back, you know…I was just as lost here as I was there.”

Brittany leans up and kisses her again. “Well I have to be honest. It was mostly for selfish reasons. But I’m so glad that you took me up on my offer.”

“So am I. And look at all you taught me. Maybe I’ll paint this house on my own.”

“I can help, if you’d like some company. As long as you promise not to paint me again.”

“I don’t know, painting you had some pretty good results.”

“That’s true, but you can just ask…no paint necessary.”

Santana just laughs, knowing its true, now that they’ve taken this step in their relationship.  
“But, you really want to paint the house with me?“

"Of course, I mean, is that weird? I just thought, I don’t know, I’m a pretty good painter, and it’s nice when we do stuff like this together you know?”

“No, no. I don’t think it’s weird at all. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of your skills.”

“Oh I know you just keep me around for my 'skills’, its cool.” Brittany replies with a giggle, "But seriously, I don’t mind. I’d love to help you paint the house. I’ve only got a few fall cleanups to do, and then most of my time is free anyway.”

“Well that would be awesome.” Santana grins, while Brittany just looks at her softly.

"So I guess we have some more painting to do.” Brittany lets a smile spread across her mouth, and Santana notices a glob of red paint, drying in the shell of Brittany’s ear.

“Maybe we can use what’s left in your ear, how did you even get paint in your ear?” She taps her finger against it, and Brittany laughs.

“You’re the one who started flinging paint.”

Santana just kisses the top of her ear, and snuggles in closer. They should probably go make something for dinner, but right now, she can’t think of doing anything but staying right where she is. She moves her head so it’s resting on Brittany’s chest, and they don’t need words to fill the space, not for a long time.

“My- um, my parents, and maybe Kurt, they’re coming up here for Thanksgiving.“ Santana finally says, something she’s been thinking about, coming back to her.

"Oh yeah? That’s really nice. It’ll be nice for them to see the place all spruced up.”

“Yeah, I feel like, I really proved them wrong. I mean, my parents were less vocal than Kurt, but I’m pretty sure they thought I was crazy coming here too.”

“I’m really glad you did. And I think they’ll definitely be impressed by your awesome farm.”

“My farm.” Santana’s chest swells with pride at the thought. She’d made the subconscious decision to stay, for good, somewhere a few months back, but hearing those words, and then saying them out loud, it feels really good, really right. “Hey, Britt?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know if you and Gram have plans or anything. Or if maybe Thanksgiving is one of those things she boycotts, but, I was wondering, maybe, if you’d want to come too? Both of you, I mean.”

“Come to Thanksgiving?” Brittany asks, just to make sure.

"Yeah. I mean. You don’t have to, or anything. You could maybe meet my parents on Friday, or not at all, you know, whatever.”

“Hey, no. I’d love to come to Thanksgiving. I’d love to San. I’ll ask Gram when I get home, but I’m sure she’ll beat me over here to tell you yes” Brittany laughs.

“Okay, good.” Santana breathes a sigh of relief. “They’ll be really glad to hear that.”

“But don’t leave right now, to tell them, cause seriously we can never leave this bed again.”

“I think, Brittany Pierce, the last thing I want to do right now is call my parents.”

“Good, cause I had a few other ideas in mind on what we could do instead.”


	7. November

After the first night Brittany spends at the farmhouse, it becomes a frequent occurrence. It isn’t something they ever discussed, it just happens and honestly it seems like it should’ve always been that way. In between painting, the chaos caused by the return of the Pierce women to town meetings, and Santana’s efforts to have the inside of the house entirely ready for the arrival of Kurt and her parents, time flies. It’s the day before Thanksgiving, and Santana only has one room left. The room she’d been avoiding entirely, since the very day she arrived in Copper Hollow. She knows she has to but there is so much hesitation. Being surrounded by her Abuela’s things. The Abuela who disowned her for something completely out of her control. The bitterness that she had when she arrived at the farm has all but faded completely, now she’s left with a task that could potentially bring up everything she’d been able to let go.

Brittany’s not around. She’d had one last job to finish, knowing the first frost is creeping quickly, and Santana decides, she needs to bite the bullet, she needs to creep past that long closed door, and put this out of its misery. It’s the last task before this house truly feels like hers and not just some house she’s staying in. She pushes the door open slowly and she’s hit with a strong wave of nostalgia. The room still smells exactly like her Abuela. The dressing table in the corner still hold her trinkets and jewelry box. The bed, it’s made, and she knows, Alma would have made it herself, the very same morning that she’d passed away. She takes a deep breath and steels herself before walking inside. She’s overwhelmed and not really sure where to even start. It’s been nearly a year, since she’s gone, but more than a decade, for Santana. Still though, this feels like a funeral of sorts, she’s saying her final goodbyes.

The trash bags she has in her hand, she sets on the dresser, and just for a moment, she sinks down onto the edge of the bed. She just soaks in the moment. Because when she’s done, this won’t be her Abuela’s room anymore. This is the last time she’ll see it this way, and in a way, the last time her abuela’s memory will exist in this room in a tangible way. The things she touched… Santana feels a sob choke free of her throat. When she’d died, she hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of tears. Her life was in its own state of disarray, and she didn’t feel right, grieving for someone who’d disowned her so callously. But now, sitting here, she finally gives in to the need to mourn.

Thick tears roll down her cheeks as she takes in the room around her. She’d spent so many summers sitting in this room, her Abuela braiding her hair to keep it from getting dirty and matted in the summer heat. They’d grown apart, as Santana got older and more strong willed, even before their relationship had become irreparably fractured, but still, Alma had loved her once, and Santana had loved her too. She cries for a long time, until she can feel her eyes beginning to ache and get puffy. She knows that she has to put herself to work, or she’ll be like this all day.

Santana works through the room, trying to be as emotionally unattached as possible. She boxes up the clothes, the sheets and blankets for Goodwill, and she sets aside some personal effects to send home with her mother. It’s the pictures that threaten to drag her back under the grief though, so she saves them for last, bringing the whole shoebox of them down to the kitchen. It’s only after she showers away a year’s worth of dust, that she even feels like she can attempt to open up the box, lifting the lid like she’s entering another world. She doesn’t hear the front door open, Brittany long past the posting of knocking, she doesn’t hear her, even as she comes into the kitchen.

“Well that’s it for the winter, now I just get to relax here with you all…Hey are you okay, babe?”

Santana looks up, “Oh, hey Britt, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you come in. I, uh, went through Abuela’s stuff today.”

“Oh, honey.” Brittany comes to her side, and she squeezes her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t expect it to hit me so hard.”

Brittany slides a chair next to Santana, and wraps an arm around her, inviting Santana to lean into her. “It was a pretty big deal. You did it all today?”

“Yeah, I just needed to get through it all you know?”

“I can understand that.” Brittany kisses her temple. “Is this you, sitting on the porch?”

“Yeah, in one of those fucking wicker chairs. Maybe that’s why I hate them so much, that’s as far out of the house as I was allowed to go.”

“You were adorable. Are adorable still.”

Santana looks down and sucks her lips into her mouth, “Thanks, Abuelita used to make me wear dresses like this all the time. She would have been really into the way I was dressing before I came here, I think. It just, it sucks, Britt.”

“I know baby, I’m sorry. But I think that she left this place to you for a reason. You may not have been on good terms but she obviously still loved you.”

“I wish she would have tried to understand.”

“I do too, because she really missed out on something special.”

Santana doesn’t even know what to say, because Brittany always has a way of making her feel better. “Britt?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you…maybe tell me what she was like? When you knew her?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Brittany takes her hand and leads her to the couch and Santana immediately cuddles into her side.

“I think, maybe she was searching for something. I didn’t know about you then, obviously, but, it was a feeling I had right from the start, like something was missing. She was lonely, really lonely. That’s why I started coming around here. At first it was to help out around the house, but then it became more to keep her company. She cooked enough food for ten people, but it was always just her.”

“Her big piles of rice and beans.” Santana laughs a little bit.

“And her telenovelas.”

Santana just nods, getting teary again, and Brittany pulls her in close. “I think, honey, she’d be happy that you’re having Thanksgiving here tomorrow. It seemed like all she wanted was a house full of people.”

Santana nods again, not quite sure she can muster words for a response, other than “Thanks Britt. I love you.”

“I love you too, Santana.” She kisses her temple. “Did Kurt call? Has he picked up your parents from the airport yet?”

“No their flight was delayed a little bit, he’s waiting for them though, he sent me a text earlier.”

“So we have some extra alone time then.” Brittany smiles.

“It’s going to be weird, sleeping apart from you for three nights in a row.“

"Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to sleep at all,” Brittany pouts at the thought.

“Are you really sure you don’t want to stay anyway? Britt, I’m an adult and it’s my house…”

“I know but…I don’t know…I just…don’t want to make your parents uncomfortable, we haven’t met yet…I do want to stay. I’m just not sure if Ishould.”

“Personally, I think you should. I mean, I should have gone to Target to get a body pillow.“

“Let’s…see how it goes. Then we can revisit the topic okay?”

"Okay…I mean they are going to be sleeping downstairs. It’s not like they’ll-”

“Santana Lopez,” Brittany scolds, cutting her off.

“I’m just saying…” She feigns innocence, and Brittany rolls her eyes.

“If you think I’m having sex with you with your parents in the house, you are seriously mistaken.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Santana mumbles, “But I’ll settle with just having you in bed with me.”

“We’ll see.”

“That’s better than a no. I’ll take it.“

By the time Kurt calls to say that he’s picked up Santana’s parents, and they’re headed up that way, Brittany and Santana have already prepped everything for the next day, and started cooking dinner together. Brittany is getting jittery, as the time approaches for Santana’s parents to arrive, the idea of Doctors Lopez sort of completely freaking her out.

"Babe, it’s going to be fine. They’re going to love you.” Santana reminds her, kissing her on the cheek as she moves around the kitchen.

“I don’t know, Santana. I don’t even like to go in the medicine aisle at the drug store.”

Santana laughs a little, “They’re not going to quiz you on medical procedures over dinner. I promise if they start telling gross stories, I’ll change the subject.”

Brittany snorts at that, “I’m not worried so much about the gross stories, as I am about them thinking I’m okay for you.”

“Oh honey, you are perfect for me. They’ll see how happy you make me and be glad that I’ve found someone like you. Don’t dismiss all of your hard work Brittany, it was you who brought this farm back to life.”

“Well…” Brittany knows she can’t argue with that.

“That is true. But you did help.”

Santana barks out a loud laugh, “If by ‘help’ you mean hand you tools and paint a little, then sure.”

“Those were very important tasks.”

Before Brittany can respond, the doorbell rings, and her eyes widen a little. Santana gives her a quick kiss, and shimmies her way to the door. She smooths her hair when she gets into the entryway, and then laughs at her own appearance, jeans and one of Brittany’s t-shirts, that’s just a little too big on her. Her parents aren’t even going to recognize her, and she’s fairly certain Kurt is going to attempt to drag her off somewhere for a makeover. She rolls her eyes at the thought of it. She’s so much happier like this, being her authentic self, then she ever was hiding behind the mask of expensive clothes and a face of makeup. Sucking in a deep breath, she opens the door, and finds her parents, Kurt, and their suitcases, standing out on the front porch. Her dad is admiring the paint job, while her mother looks a little wistful and nostalgic, and Kurt seems to be swatting at imaginary bugs.

“Hey Guys! Come in, come in!“

"Santana, we haven’t seen you since March, give me a hug before we do anything.” Maribel Lopez engulfs her daughter in a tight hug, not letting go.

“Hi Mami, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, mija, I’ve missed you so much. And look at you, you’re a completely different person from when I last saw you.”

“Yeah, I kind of feel like I’m a completely different person, it’s…it’s a really nice feeling actually.”

“You look happy, Santana.” Miguel Lopez nods his approval, and takes his turn hugging her. “This country air is doing you good, isn’t it?”

“I think it is. It’s nice to be away from all of the chaos of the city but there’s something else too, or someone else.” She turns and sees Brittany standing behind her a little bit, “This is Brittany Pierce.”

Kurt’s eyes nearly bug out of his head at the sight of Brittany standing there. He’d known Santana was dating someone, they all did, but Brittany definitely wasn’t who he’d expected. “Santana Lopez. Look what you found out in the middle of nowhere.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Mami, Papi, Kurt, this is Brittany. Britt, these are my people.”

“Your people?” She snickers a little, and Kurt can’t help but join in.

Santana huffs, “You know what I mean.”

“It’s so, so nice to meet you all. Santana’s told me so much about you.”

Kurt huffs, “Oh god. Satan what did you tell her about me? She probably hates me already!”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t do things that make people think you’re a d-,” She stops herself in the presence of her parents. “Jerk”

Maribel rolls her eyes, “Nice save.”

“I also don’t hate you, Kurt. But, you better be nice to my girlfriend.“ Brittany glares at him, and Kurt holds up his hands in defense

"Alright, enough.” Maribel claps her hands, looking pointedly at Kurt. But when she leans in to finally embrace Brittany, she can’t help but whisper in her ear. “You tell him.”

Brittany giggles a little, “Dinner is almost ready by the way.”

“And she cooks.” Kurt arches his eyebrow, and Santana sucks her teeth at him.

“We both cooked, actually.” Brittany tells him, then redirects her attention to Santana’s parents. “Dr. and Dr. Lopez…oh God, am I saying that right?”

“Oh please honey, Maribel and Miguel is just fine.”

“Oh. Okay.” She nods. “But, like, for future reference, is it doctor and doctor? Or, like, doctors?”

"Doctor and doctor, I suppose, I don’t think I’ve ever actually thought about it.” Maribel considers that for a moment, pursing her lips.

"Maybe I’ll research it later.” Brittany shrugs, and Santana puts her hand on her girlfriend’s lower back. “I just don’t like to look…stupid or anything.”

“Oh no, you definitely don’t look stupid,” Miguel looks pensive, “I don’t think anyone has ever thought to ask us that question. That’s the mark of a thinker, Brittany.”

Brittany blushes a little, looking down, and Miguel looks to his daughter, highly impressed. “I have to say, Santana, we’ve waited years to meet a girl of yours, and I’d say it was well worth the wait, for Brittany here to be our first.”

Santana beams at Brittany, as her blush deepens all the way up to her ears. “Definitely worth the wait.”

"We should eat.” Brittany has to change the subject, because she’s turning very shy. “You’ve had a long trip, and we’ve gotta get to town for the turkey pardoning, I mean, if you all want to go.”

“Turkey Pardoning?” Maribel questions.

“Oh dear God, Santana brought us to Mayberry!”

“Kurt, why are you ninety-five years old, honestly?”

“Santana, there is a Turkey Pardoning!”

“Yes, there is. And you’ll meet Rachel. She’s like, your cosmic soulmate, or something, maybe. She’s the only person on the planet more obnoxious than you.”

“I’m insulted, and intrigued.”

“You might regret saying you’re intrigued, Kurt.“ Brittany chuckles a little. "She’s completely ridiculous, and my Gram and I are still making bets on whether she’s a real person, or someone planted here by aliens.”

“I’m betting aliens,” Santana stage whispers.

“So am I. Gram thinks maybe failed government experimentation thought.”

Maribel turns to Brittany, “Gram? Is that your grandmother Brittany?”

“It is.” Brittany nods, that sparkle she gets in her eye whenever she talks about Janet shining through. “Let’s just say, she’s not Rachel’s biggest fan. You’ll see tonight. She’ll be there, and probably heckling her.”

Dinner is uneventful, the Lopezes, (and even Kurt) praising the fact that Santana has really learned to cook, and praising Brittany, for her part, as well. After dinner, while Kurt is showering off his drive, and Brittany steps outside to call her grandmother, Santana’s father finally asks the million dollar Lopez question.

"Santana, I see you’ve transformed this entire place. But, I have to ask. Have you done any writing?

Santana breathes out a heavy sigh, because she knew this was coming. "No Papi. I haven’t written anything. There’s not a lot of news going on in Copper Hollow.”

“Well, your mother and I had just hoped, maybe, you’d still been thinking about that novel you’ve talked about. A writer writes, isn’t that what you’ve always told us?”

“It is, but I can’t force the words out if they don’t want to come. I just, I haven’t been able to write anything since… ”

“We understand that, mija.” Maribel looks to Miguel, urging him to drop it. They’d discussed talking about it with her, before they’d come, but she’s clearly upset, and she doesn’t want to ruin the visit by pushing the issue. “We just want you to be happy, and we know that used to be something that made you happy.”

“I am happy Mami, I’m more happy than I have been in a really long time. I love writing, I do, but I can’t force it. And I know the money isn’t going to last forever, and I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do next, I do.”

“But you plan to stay here, correct?” Miguel looks around at the home that’s become so very Santana.

“Yeah, yeah I am. I need to go back to the city at some point, get the rest of my stuff out of storage, and deal with my subletter, before my lease is up. But, I don’t want to go back for good. It’s just not my home anymore. My home is here.”

"We can definitely see that.” Maribel smiles knowingly. “And we understand. Kurt might not, you two left Columbus and went to New York together, straight out of high school. You’ve spent your whole adult lives there together, and that’s hard for him that you’re done now, but he’ll accept it. And you and Brittany, you’re more serious than I’d thought, no?”

Santana’s voice is soft, and she’s a little bashful, “Yes, very serious.”

Maribel smiles to herself, watching Santana’s eyes light up at the mention of Brittany.

“She’s really, really special, Ma. I’ve never met anyone like her but it kind of feels like I’ve always known her. If that makes sense”

“I might know a thing or two about that.” Miguel looks at his wife, a twinkle in his eye. “She mellows you, Santana. And she looks at you like you’re as special as you are too.”

“We’re both so happy for you. We’re glad that you’re happy mija.”

“Thank you.” Santana nods, genuinely. “And I promise, I’ll figure the rest of it out.”

“We know you will. You always do.”

Because his is the only car big enough, Kurt ends up driving to the pardoning. While Santana climbs in the back seat with her parents, Brittany sits with him up front, giving directions, and the grand tour of Copper Hollow, for the visitors in the back. When they arrive in town, it’s already of a flurry of excitement, and Gram is standing in the parking lot, one hand on her hip, when she sees the vehicle her granddaughter climbs out of.

“Why didn’t you just arrive in a tank? It’d use less gas!” Janet immediately starts accusing. “Brittany Susan Pierce, I raised you better than to have friends who drive fossil fuel incinerators for no good reason.”

“Gram!” Brittany hisses. “Santana’s parents are here.”

“Is this their environment killer?”

“No it’s Kurt’s actually, isn’t that right Kurt?” Santana replies, smirking at her suddenly nervous looking friend.

“I-um. Mrs. Gram. I’m really-” Kurt sputters, as Janet comes right up to him, and begins poking his shoulder, hard enough that Brittany thinks he might bruise. He looks awfully delicate.

“Do you know what these things are capable of? It’s bad enough that they’re attributing to the depletion of finite resources, but they’re terrible for air quality too! Did you vote for Mitt Romney, young man? Brittany! Is he a Republican?”

"Gram!”

“I’m, I’m gay.” Kurt cowers as she continues to shout at him, and both Maribel and Miguel have their jaws dropped, while Santana is about thirty seconds from rolling on the floor.

“Okay!” Brittany shouts, effectively getting everyone’s attention, “Let’s get to the pardoning shall we?”

“You know who won’t be pardoned. The ones who are destroying our planet.” Janet mutters under her breath, and Brittany shoots her a look before guiding everyone along the sidewalk to the town square.

“Well she’s certainly colorful.” Maribel whispers to Santana. “And she raised Brittany?”

“She did, yeah. She’s kind of the best.” Santana beams.

“I guess Brittany wasn’t kidding about her getting riled up, huh?” Miguel chuckles. “If that’s how she acts with someone she’s never met, I can’t even imagine what she’ll be like with her rival.”

“It should be exciting to watch! And trust me, Rachel deserves everything she gets.”

“Damn right she does!” Janet turns and gives Santana a thumbs up. “I was out here this morning when they were setting up, making sure she wasn’t destroying any more ecosystems.”

“Satan, your girlfriend’s grandmother just assaulted me.” Kurt rubs at his sore shoulder.

“You deserved it. You live in the city what purpose do you actually have for that monster of a vehicle?”

“Sometimes I…need to haul things?”

“Like what? Your dry cleaning from one building to the one next door?”

“Well…no, they pick it up now.”

“It better be a green cleaner.” Janet growls at him, her finger twitching threateningly. “I hope you educate yourself about the toxins in dry cleaning.”

Kurt gulps, as Santana sends him a you should listen to her look. He shakes his head at this entire situation. When he’d pictured Santana in the country like this, he’d pictured tractors and tumbleweeds, not a scary old lady who looked like she’d just come from Woodstock.

They make it up to the front of the stage, where Rachel is struggling to reach the microphone. Santana catches Gram rolling her eyes at her, and her mother, laughing at Brittany’s grandmother. Brittany sidles up beside Santana, and she slips her fingers through her girlfriend’s, resting her chin on her shoulder.

“Friends, Cooper Hollowians, Countrymen! Lend me your ears!” Rachel belts into the microphone.

"Oh Jesus…”

“Don’t even judge, sounds like you on a Friday night at Pieces.” Santana snarks back at Kurt.

Kurt scowls back at her, “I do not sound like that…most of the time…”

“Excuse me, in the front, I’m speaking up here! I encourage you to maintain your attention on me!”

“Oh just get on with it! I’m not standing out here in the cold all night to listen to you blather on, just to hear yourself talk!” Gram calls out.

“Mrs. Pierce, this tradition is older than you are!”

“And I’m only getting older. If you don’t speed it up, I’m going to be dead!”

“When the older generation has no respect for tradition, how am I supposed to carry it on for the children?” Rachel mostly ponders to herself. “Anyway, I’d like to present to you this year’s fowl…”

“Rachel, that’s a chicken.“ Brittany deadpans.

"How am I supposed to have respect for the goddamn tradition if you can’t even get the right poultry?” Janet bemoans.

“It’s a turkey pardon for a reason, Rachel. It’s Thanksgiving… when people typically eat turkey…” Santana adds.

“Well, there seems to be an influx of chicken enthusiasts in Copper Hollow, so we thought we could appeal to a broader audience.”

“You had one job! And you messed it up!! How is this town supposed to trust you with big decisions if you can’t even get the small ones right?”

Rachel stands at the podium with an indignant if not embarrassed look on her face, “I’m going to carry on this tradition now, and don’t think I won’t use my power to reinstate a ban at all town meetings, and extend it to public events!”

“She’s been banned from town meetings?” Kurt appears scandalized.

“It was a technicality.” Santana waves off.

“Yeah, we’re totally allowed back now!” Brittany beams

“We…?”

“I’ll explain later…”

“Just know that Rachel was just overreacting, as usual.” Santana defends the Pierces, wholeheartedly.

“Can you all please just be quiet?” Rachel stamps her foot on the ground. Most of the crowd rolls their eyes but quiets down enough for her to feel like she’s accomplished something.

“Without further ado, Sir Chicken.-”

“It’s a hen, Rachel, a hen! A speckled hen! Who continues to vote for her?” Janet sweeps her gaze over the gathering of townspeople.

“Madam Chicken then.” Rachel brushes off. “She looks quite masculine though, I have to say.“

"Rachel!” Brittany interjects. “That’s chicken bullying! Maybe she’s sensitive!”

“How, how do you have nothing to write?” Kurt snorts.

“I don’t want to give Rachel the satisfaction of thinking she’s worthy of a news article. Her head would get so big it would eventually explode and soak everyone in faux self-importance. I can’t have that kind of guilt on my hands.”

“I would throw you a damn party if you made her head explode.” Janet nods in approval. Brittany snorts, and nods too. “Brittany ought to watch out, I’d probably marry you, if you did.”

“Hey, hands off Gram.”

“That ban will grow to extend all Lopezes and guests as well!” Rachel shrieks into the microphone.

“You’re just going to ban everyone who questions you? Should we just call you Putin from now on?” Santana scowls at her.

"Just let her do the thing!” Someone calls out from the back. “Then we can all go home!”

“He’s got a good point,” Brittany whispers.

“Fine, just do the thing.” Gram narrows her eyes at Rachel. “But I’m watching you.”

The rest of the pardoning itself goes off without any more interruptions. At least until the end when Rachel announces that she has a special surprise, a new tradition, of sorts.

“Tonight, we are going to offer this chicken a brand new home!”

Everyone looks around confused, “Since when is forcing farm animals on people a tradition?” Gram calls out.

“It’s a way to make our newest resident of the town feel truly welcome in Copper Hollow. Though really, I have the right mind to rescind that, after her behavior tonight. Ladies and gentlemen of Copper Hollow, tonight, on the eve of the day our forefathers broke bread with the-”

“Don’t you dare Rachel Barbra Berry, you know how I feel about you lying about the origins of Thanksgiving!”

“ON THE EVE OF THANKSGIVING!” Rachel yells out, drowning out Janet’s heckling. “JUST AS THE NATIVE AMERICANS SHARED THEIR MEAL WITH THE PILGRIMS, WE SHARE THIS CHICKEN WITH OUR NEWEST RESIDENT, SANTANA LOPEZ!”

“Did they just…did they give her a chicken?” Kurt turns to Maribel and Miguel, aghast.

“Yes, yes dear, they did.”

“I’m going to kill her.” Santana hisses.

“I’ll help.” Gram grins at Santana.

The hen pecks at Rachel’s leg, and she squeals a little, while Brittany saunters up to retrieve it for her girlfriend, but lets the hen continue to chase Rachel around, pecking at her legs and feet before she reaches down and picks her up.

“I think we should call you Attila the Hen, you’re a fierce little lady.” Then turns to Santana, chicken in arms. “Babe, don’t kill her! I mean, don’t kill her over this! You have your very first farm animal! I’ll build you a chicken coop!”

Santana immediately forgets her annoyance and turns to face Brittany with a small smile, “Really? You’ll build a coop?”

“Of course I will! But for now, we should swing by Gram’s on the way home and get some chicken wire to fence her in. Hey, did you know that people used to sacrifice chickens for good luck?”

“Don’t even think about sacrificing that chicken!” Rachel calls from the podium. “She wasn’t pardoned for you to kill her.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk about murdering animals, snail genocidist!” Grams yells back at her, narrowing her eyes.

“I was just saying.” Brittany shrugs. “I wasn’t actually going to kill her!”

"You’re the best, Britt. And, I think we’ve made our own luck just fine.” Santana kisses her, and while Kurt is just shaking his head with a masked smile, her parents know, this girl and this town might be the best thing that ever happened to her.

Thanksgiving goes off without a hitch, and Kurt begrudgingly admits that he’s happy that Santana is happy even, if she was living in some warped version of Stars Hollow. Santana gets her wish, about Brittany staying with her, when her parents absolutely insist, especially after Brittany creates an enclosure out of the chicken wire and a two-by-four she brings out from the barn, in less than a half hour.


	8. December

The snow falls earlier in Copper Hollow than Santana is used to. Once December begins, there are already six inches of it on the ground. After they drive down to New York together to get the rest of Santana’s things out of storage, letting Kurt take them out for sushi, and Brittany get a glimpse of Santana’s old life, before Copper Hollow, they sort of tuck away inside the house. Brittany works on plans to redesign the lawn of town hall in the spring- though Rachel made her promise Janet would stay home, and Janet made her promise she wouldn’t let Rachel make her do anything unethical, while Santana unpacks her boxes, arranging the house like it’s truly hers. The rest of December continues on much the same, Christmas is spent at Grams house and everyone is surprised at the amount of snow that seems to constantly cover the ground. Dave invites them to his “Annual New Year’s Eve Bash” but the snow has other plans for them.

The Christmas lights that they’d hung together- well, maybe Santana just supervised and held the ladder- are lit, and there’s a fire roaring in the fireplace. Attila the Hen is tucked in a box in the kitchen, since Santana, suddenly more of an animal person than she’d ever imagined, feels bad leaving her out in the snow, even in the coop Brittany had built for her. She’d researched chickens compulsively, and the moment she’d read that they don’t walk on snow, and that they need other chickens to keep warm, she’d immediately picked her up and brought her inside, finding use for one of the many leftover hatboxes as a temporary home for her, until Brittany brought a more suitable box in from her truck. As for keeping warm themselves, instead of snuggling together on the couch, Brittany and Santana spread blankets on the floor, and they lay there, the big balsam fir they’d decorated looming over them, and the fire, and each other, keeping them warm. It just doesn’t get any better that this right here. Except. Maybe it could.

“I’m so glad we got stuck home tonight.” Brittany tells Santana, her hand up under the back of her thermal shirt, drawing on her skin. She’d lost her pants hours earlier, and felt no need to put them back on. Instead, her bare legs are tangled in Brittany’s, skin on skin, warmth on warmth. When she realizes what she says, she pauses for a minute, and sucks her lips into her mouth. “I-I mean. Here. Your home.”

Santana looks up at her for a few seconds, "It could be yours too, Britt. If you want it to be.” She sits up a little to face Brittany, “I’ve been thinking about it. A lot”

“What?” Brittany props her head on her hand. “You have?”

“Yeah I have. I want you to live here, with me. You and Tubbs. You’ve done so much for this place and…for me. When I met you, I didn’t even think this would be my home, and now that it is, I want it to be your home, too. If that's….something that you want. I know that you look out for Gram and stuff, make sure she doesn’t throw rocks through Berry’s window, but, we’d still see her lots and then, you’d never have to go home and stuff to get clothes, or do work, or hang out with Tubbs. Because home would be here.” Santana’s out of breath from all the words she got out, and she starts to laugh. “I thought I could do it without rambling. I guess I was wrong.”

“I love your rambling, and your ranting too. It’s super cute, San. And, I’d really love to live here with you. I’ve been spending more time here than at my place anyway, and I think that Gram will be just fine.”

“Yeah?” Santana asks, just to make sure, unable to keep the giddy smile off of her face.

“Of course, yeah. I love being with you, and I love that I’ll never wake up without you anymore.”

Santana rolls herself on top of Brittany and gives her a lingering kiss, just as the old clock in the hallway, one of the few vestiges of Alma’s life that Santana had decided to keep, since Brittany had said it gave the place character, begins to chime twelve times, signaling midnight.

“Happy New Year’s, baby.“

"Right back at you, roomie.”

“You’re a dork you know.” Brittany laughs, kissing Santana, over and over, the firelight making her look even more beautiful than normal.

“I know, but I’m your dork.”

“Yes, yes you are, and I couldn’t be any happier.”

The next morning, Santana wakes up, finding herself still on the floor, wrapped up in Brittany, and the blankets they’d dragged from the bedroom, from their bedroom. Slipping from Brittany’s embrace, and pulling on her discarded sweatpants, she pads toward the kitchen, and sitting on her table, she sees her laptop, still closed, closed for too long. For the first time in a long time, her fingers twitch to touch the keyboard. Making herself a cup of coffee, Santana wraps her warm coat around herself, and slips Brittany’s heavy workbooks on over her thick socks, thinking of no better place to start than in one of those wicker chairs on the porch, the ones that she’s resigned herself to believe that will probably be a permanent fixture at the farmhouse. Her home. Her home with Brittany.

So she dusts snow from the chair, and she sits down, opening her computer, and she takes a deep breath. When they’d first met, Brittany had jokingly quoted The Notebook, saying every great love starts with a great story. For Santana, her story may not have not felt so great when it started, and it might not always be entirely happy along the way, but those stories, stories like hers, they need to be told too. Looking out at the big red barn that sits on a snow covered hill, she knows, her story, and the things that led her here to the tiny town of Copper Hollow, New York, population six-hundred-thirty-four, and to Brittany Pierce, love of her life, that’s the one Santana Lopez finds herself sitting down to type, the words flowing out of her like never before.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who grew up dreaming of big things in New York City. Then, she learned that there was a place for her somewhere else. In the smallest of small towns, two hundred fifty six miles northwest. A place where she’d find all the things she never knew she needed…


End file.
